


A Court of Truth and Deceit

by SeaSpree



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACOTAD, ACOTAR - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-07-11 20:06:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7068166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaSpree/pseuds/SeaSpree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our take on the finale of the ACOTAR trilogy: A Court of Truth and Deceit. While Feyre is acting as spy in the Spring Court, Rhysand is in the Night Court, preparing for war against the King of Hybern, who plans to wipe out the mortal lands. To save their world, Rhysand and Feyre must be prepared to cheat and lie to win the war. In times like these, will truth prevail, or deceit?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My coauthor is not on AO3, but her username on Wattpad is broken1004. This fanfic is also on Wattpad and FF.

Chapter One — Feyre

 

Tamlin wanted me to have at least a week of rest before I joined him in the meetings. For the past two days, I’d been pampered and coddled with eyes watching me from every corner as if that would keep me from disappearing me. Even though I desperately wanted to. As lovely as the Spring Court was, I no longer felt the comfort I once did a year ago.

Fortunately, there were no guards trailing me anymore, but I was sick of getting all the attention and being left out from all the affairs. I would have none of it. 

On day three, I burst into the meeting room to find Tamlin and Lucien alone, discussing over Hybern. The sight of the High Lord of the Spring Court had me, once again, longing for a different High Lord. A glimmer of love shot down our bond and I responded in kind before stepping inside the room and announcing my presence to the two fae males with a light tap of my foot.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Tamlin demanded, rising from his seat. I wanted to snarl at him, tell him he had no right to demand what I do, unleash those talons of night on him, but I held back. Instead, I softened my voice so he may think that I was weak, broken, in need of mending. From the Night Court. My family, my home.

I cleared my mind of the beautiful city and willed myself to meet Tamlin’s stare. “I- I’m here to help. I want to destroy the Night Court.”

“You can help from bed. Just give a call, and I would've come to you.” I didn't want him coming to my bedroom. The idea of making love to Tamlin when my entire heart belonged to Rhysand… a whisper of a voice entered through the sliver of my mind that I left open only for my mate.  _ I hate the idea of you with him, but I'll never hold it against you if you needed to. _

But I won't. The idea of being with Tamlin now… it was utterly painful.

“I'm fine out of bed. Let me join in your discussion.” Lucien gave me a look of suspicion that didn't go unnoticed by Tamlin. He snarled softly at his emissary. The two had been at odd-ends of late, not to mention Lucien’s mate, Elain, my older sister. Another pang of sadness. Less than a week ago, the King of Hybern had captured my sisters, Elain and Nesta, and turned them into high fae. 

And it was Tamlin’s fault. If he had just let me go, let me be my own person, maybe this wouldn’t have been such a mess. But perhaps Ianthe was just as much to be blamed, maybe even more.

I didn't hide the sound of sadness that I choked out. Tamlin deserves to hear it. Deserved my wrath. He was the root of the mess that we were now all in.

“Have you spoken to Ianthe yet?” I asked instead. Tamlin growled, the beast that was inside him just under his skin.

“She's gone. Left before I could interrogate her.” I raised an eyebrow, letting some of my High Lady chill seep through me.

“Like you interrogated Alis?” I asked coldly. Tamlin sighed. This would be our fourth discussion about her.

“That,” he said, “was  _ necessary _ . She  _ let _ Rhysand take you away! She deserved to be punished.” Mor had been the one to take me away, but that wasn't the point of our conversation. But continuing this would also reveal more secrets than I cared to.

“When is Hybern marching through our court?” Our court. Spring Court. Not Night Court. A reminder of what I had given up. 

Tamlin hesitated; he was still reluctant to let me help, still believing that I needed protecting. I softened my voice, acting like the damsel in distress he believed me to be. “Tamlin, I want to help. The Night Court…” my voice cracked as memories flowed through me, friends, Velaris, freedom. . . Rhys. Luckily, Tamlin took the voice crack to be sadness and fear. Again, Lucien looked at me as if he knew I was lying.

“Tell me everything you remember from the Night Court, everything Rhysand told you and did to you,” he ordered, his eyes desperate, and yet furious.

So I did.

❋ ❋ ❋

I told them about everything—everything, except Velaris, the mating bond, and my undying loyalty to the Court of Dreams. Of course, I’d been vague about a few events. I didn’t mention my breakdown during my training with Cassian, the dancing at Starfall, or any of the other times I felt happy and at ease, like I was finally living a life. 

Instead, I told them the stories that would let them think I’d felt scared and used. I told them about the Court of Nightmares, the Bone Carver, and the Weaver. I laced my words with poison and fear, tales of loneliness, and homesickness.

“And yet, he never hurt you and even taught you how to read and write?” Lucien questioned. His gaze lowered to my left arm, where my tattoo marking my bargain with Rhysand had once been. 

He met my eyes again as I just gave a vague nod. 

“Rhysand probably thought she’d be capable of reading the Book. I bet he would’ve hurt her after she finished her duty and fed her to the demons lying in his Court,” Tamlin said through gritted teeth. 

I hid my clenched fists behind my back as I forced myself to appear frightened. 

“But they were ma—” Lucien stopped midsentence as a hand ending in claws swiped mere inches away from his face. 

“Never. Finish. That. Sentence.” Tamlin’s face went lupine as he rose from his seat. 

Despite sitting in a chair, I subconsciously leaned out of his way, and that  _ wrong _ scent, as he stalked out of the room and peered at Lucien. He was taking deep breaths, clenching and unclenching his fists before he finally acknowledged my stare.

“We need to talk.”

❋ ❋ ❋

“Tell me the truth. And don’t give me any shit like you did with Tamlin,” Lucien snarled once Tamlin’s footsteps faded beyond hearing distance. I bit my lip, quietly assessing him, and then, like a shadow, a caress, I slipped into his mind. The view shifted, just like that first time I did it, and then later, with Tarquin. Across the table was me, a passive face, a predator with the skin of prey. And then I stroked Lucien’s mind, beckoning his thoughts to come to me. Once again, the torrent of sadness, guilt, and pain washed over me. But this time, there was loneliness—loneliness, I realized, for Elain, his mate, and fury, because she was gone and he couldn’t get her back. Not without my help.

But not yet. Not yet. I did not trust Lucien, not after he allowed Tamlin to lock me up in this accursed manor.

“Why would I ever shit around with Tamlin? I love him.” I gave Lucien a saccharine smile before swiftly exiting the meeting room.

As I went through the door, uproarious laughter shot down the bond hidden deep inside me.  _ My mate. _ I allowed myself a genuine smile.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two — Rhysand

 

I tried not to think about Feyre and what she had to deal with now because of me as I stared at her sisters. Amren was still mad at me for leaving my mate in the Spring Court’s hands. She would glare at me now and then, and I would look away from guilt. I hated myself for it, but Feyre was our only chance in having the upper hand in the war. 

I stroked a mental finger down the bond hidden deeply inside us, and a glimmer of love and loving was sent along the bond in response.

We were in my private home, in the mountains, where I had first taken Feyre her first few weeks at the Night Court. Mor had winnowed them here just days before, after Feyre sacrificed herself to the Spring Court. I made myself calm as I felt the talons taking shape. My mate. My queen. The High Lady of the Night Court. A smile tugged at my lips as I remembered how quick she was to say yes to my offer. I trusted her. She knew what she was getting into when she started the act.

“I would not help. Even if I wasn’t protecting Elain, I wouldn’t help your kind ever again,” Nesta seethed. Annoyance surged up in me once again.

“Whether you help the cause, and your sister, is only your choice to make, but let me make it very clear to you,” I said. “You, are part of  _ our _ kind now. You are High Fae, and without Feyre, you and Elain would have been at the mercy of the King of Hybern.” Nesta didn’t react. Her cold eyes locked into my gaze.

“Perhaps… perhaps we should help.” Elain was sitting in a chair next to her sister. She’d been quiet the past minutes, and had faded into the background while Nesta and I had quarreled. “The king of Hybern plans to invade the human territory. Maybe we are fae now, but we shouldn’t leave the humans undefended. Not to mention those backstabbing queens.” Nesta and I were still locked in a staring contest. “And Nesta…” Elain pleaded. “If you think about it… we’re not helping the fae. We’re helping the humans.” Smooth as silk, I slipped into Nesta’s mind. Thoughts churned, flashing before me, and then. A sudden wall smashing into place, sending my mentality flying. A dark chuckle arose in me. Cold as ice, hard as steel. Just like Feyre had said. And powerful, very powerful. Ire flashed in her eyes before she glanced away, and flicked an imaginary piece of lint off the gossamer shirt she, and Elain, were wearing, in typical Night Court style.

“Fine,” she snapped. “But Elain doesn’t get involved. And especially not with that—that  _ male _ …” At that, Elain noticeably deflated a little. She had obviously felt the mating bond, and the strange attraction, to Lucien as well.

“Excellent,” I said smoothly. “In that case, would you rather stay here? Or I could winnow you to Velaris instead.” Nesta cast me another cool glare.

“We’ll stay here.” Stay here, in icy solitude, because she had become what she most despised, had failed both her sisters, and doomed them to a war. Five hundred years of practice of reading through the masks others placed on their faces, myself included, had me reading through Nesta’s easily.

“Then I’ll come for you whenever you change your mind, or if there’s a meeting.” Nesta nodded, the smallest bit of gratitude, while Elain whispered the ghost of a thanks before I became wind and shadow and winnowed back to the City of Starlight.

❋ ❋ ❋

I checked how the city was faring after Hybern’s attack a few days ago. The city itself had already been mended, but there were some who still needed healing—the attack had been the first bloodshed Velaris has experienced. And it was my fault. If I hadn’t told the queens about Velaris, it would’ve been fine. I had let my people down.

I materialized into a guest room at my townhouse, where Cassian lay on his stomach on a large bed, his shattered wings hanging limply on his back. The sight of him being so vulnerable made me want to unleash my power, but I held back. 

He had used the wings he cherished so much to protect Azriel. Azriel was healing rather well considering all the poison that had gotten in his body. It was just the matter of time now that would heal him completely. 

I’d already vowed to kill the King of Hybern myself when he decided to use Azriel as his shield. I vowed it once again when Cassian’s wings were damaged. And again when Feyre was taken away. Together, we would make him suffer.

But even if it was the King of Hybern who had caused it all, I couldn’t help, but blame myself. I shouldn’t have dragged them into this.

Cassian merely blinked to acknowledge my presence as I went to sit on the edge of the bed. My brother who had done so much for me in the past, who had made so many sacrifices for the Court of Dreams, and himself, who always knew how to lighten the mood and be there for me. And now I couldn’t find the words to help him.

“The healers said I should be prepared for the worst.” He spoke in a rough whisper that told me he’d been crying. “Rhys, what am I supposed to do? I’ll be truly useless without. . . without my wings.”

“You know that’s not true. You’re the greatest warrior I know. The wings don’t change that. You’re still the best commander I have.” 

“How am I supposed to command them without my wings? They’ll laugh at me and throw me in a ditch.” There was an edge to Cassian’s voice.

“That won’t happen. And if it does,” I growled. “I’ll be happy to throw them in the ocean.”

Cassian’s face was void of any emotion as he just stared at the ceiling. I wondered if he was trying to picture the night sky. “I’d rather die.” Any Illyrian would, after losing their wings, but despite that knowledge, I flinched. “If I don’t have my wings, what’s the point? People will look down on me if they don’t already do.”

My power chafed my skin. I was about to make a retort when Mor strolled into the room.

“If you kill yourself, I will steal that damned cauldron from Hybern and reincarnate you,” she said rather calmly as she walked towards Cassian and handed him a tonic. “The healer said this will help that aching of yours. How do you feel?”

Cassian slowly sat up, wincing a bit and drank the tonic. “Useless. An Illyrian is nothing without his wings. I am  _ nothing _ .”

“If you were nothing, Azriel would be dead right now. Wings or no wings, I expect you to be up and about and participating in our plans in the next few days.” Mor took the empty container that had held the tonic and prepared to leave the room. Before she did, she leaned over, and whispered quietly enough so that Cassian wouldn't hear her. “Get Nesta here. There’s a…” Her voice cracked. She had been trying to hold it together for Cassian’s sake before. “There's a chance they're mates. Keep him alive, Rhys.” Another layer of guilt over the many that already riddled me. Cassian should have a choice in whether he wanted to live or die. But I was selfish. And I needed him alive. For myself, for my court, for the war.

I nodded solemnly to Mor as she left the room.

❋ ❋ ❋

Azriel’s shadows seemed darker than I have ever seen them when I made my way down the stairs. Mor had told me he was overridden with guilt, although what had happened wasn’t his fault at all. Cassian had chosen to sacrifice his wings for him. Next to Azriel sat Amren, who was absent-mindedly twirling a knife around her hand. 

“Any news?” I asked as I sat down in a seat across from my spymaster.

“Hybern’s on the move,” his voice rumbled. He was in mourning over Cassian’s tattered wings. As were all of us. “Any news from Feyre?” I shook my head. She hadn’t sent a letter in days, and I didn’t want to take the initiative, and send one, lest it be at an inconvenient time, and expose her.

“Calanmai‘s coming up,” Amren reminded me. Her silver eyes met mine, a simmering sort of rage beneath them—aimed toward me. A promise that if my mate was hurt at the Spring Court, she’d have my neck.

“I know,” I replied, trying not to think about the specifics of the festival. “But Feyre and I are mated. Would that affect Tamlin’s… choice in any way?” Amren studied me carefully. Of my court, she was the most knowledgeable about magic of the fae, such as mating bonds. If anyone knew anything about the magic in the ritual on Calanmai, she would.

“It might. Feyre is mated to you now, and sworn to the Night Court. He might not have any claim left on her anymore. But if he doesn’t choose her, then he’ll become suspicious. You’ll have to get her out before Calanmai. It’s in two weeks.”

“I plan to,” I breathed. I took back what I had whispered to her through our bond just hours before. There was no way I would let Tamlin touch her. She was mine, and I was hers. And I would protect my friend, my mate, my high lady with my life. “I plan to.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three — Feyre

 

It was possible to winnow about in the manor. I planned to use that to my advantage. When I was sure that no eyes trailed me, I winnowed whenever I could to practice. There was so much of the manor I hadn’t yet explored, and I wondered why the person who I was back then was okay with that. I had yet to discover what dark secrets the Spring Court held.

Talons and wings itched to take form, but I willed them to disappear. If I were to get caught, I might as well be dooming the whole world.

To my surprise, Tamlin let me attend some of the meetings. I learned that Hybern and his forces would be arriving near the Spring and Summer Court border by the end of next week by ship. They'd take another week marching through Tamlin’s territory before breaking down the wall to invade the human lands. Lucien had reported on the variety of soldiers in Hybern’s army—high fae and hundreds of different species of lesser fae, including attor, puca, naga, and even bogge.

I'd sent Rhys a letter with the specifics later that night, and he sent the letter back with a request to join a Night Court meeting in three days. I would need to find a way to go through the cave that Mor had taken me through before to reach the Summer Court, where Rhys would be waiting to winnow me to my home, Velaris.

We _could_ communicate mind to mind, but it was more difficult to send entire thoughts. After the bargain was destroyed, the path to send thoughts between us felt muddy. It was easier to sense the feeling of him. I preferred writing to him anyway.

Despite myself, I liked acting like a spy. With Tamlin busy and Lucien keeping his distance, I had space to myself—and it was good to have that space for once.

The last time I was here, I’d done everything they told me like an obedient pet—worn every dress, greeted every stranger, acted like the damsel they’d wanted me to be.

Rhys’ words from a few months ago rang in my head.

_You are no one’s subject._

No, I was the High Lady of the Night Court. My mate’s equal in every way. A title and status that Tamlin had once told me didn’t exist. Bullshit.

Meanwhile, Ianthe was nowhere to be found.

“Still no information about the whereabouts of Ianthe?” I asked during dinner.

The meals at the Spring Court had started to blend together. I longed for the food I had at the restaurant back in Velaris with Rhys and his Inner Circle. My friends, my family. Laughing and eating under a starlit sky.

“No,” Tamlin gruffed. “Well, yes. She’s rumoured to be in Hybern, but I have no confirmation on that.” He side-eyed Lucien.

Lucien cleared his throat. “I’m working on it.”

I wanted to throttle Lucien. His loyalty was going to get him killed one day. _Stop being so stubborn and fight back. You deserve more._

I considered breaking into his mind to tell him that, but thought better of it. I didn’t want to violate anyone’s minds unless it was absolutely necessary like the time with Tarquin.  Lucien also suspected me enough, and Tamlin might’ve done something I didn’t let myself think about if Lucien snapped back.

“And…” I coughed pointedly. “About Calanmai…” Rhysand had sent back a letter warning me about the Spring Court festival. Once again, he told me to do what I needed to do, but I got the feeling that he didn't want Tamlin anywhere near touching me. Not that I wanted him to either. Frankly, these days, just him touching me on the shoulders or the hand had me struggling hard to conceal my revulsion.

“What about Calanmai?” Tamlin asked, his eyes concerned. Or I hoped it was concern I saw. It could be suspicion. Certainly that was what Lucien was aiming at me. No surprise there.

“Well…” I tried to add the appropriate amount of waver into my voice. “Well, I just don't think I'm ready.”

“Ready for what?” Tamlin asked, as he stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork.

“Ready for.” I waved my hand. “You know. I just… I just don't think I’d be able to handle it. After the Night Court…” My voice cracked. Tamlin’s right hand had turned white. I was afraid he’d snap the fork in half and set hell on his manor. But everything I’d said was more than true, just not in the way he thought. I wouldn't be able to handle making love to Tamlin, when the Night Court already held my heart.

“Rhysand… I swear on the Cauldron…” The utensil snapped in half.

“Tamlin…” I whispered.

“After Hybern,” he breathed. A promise. A threat. “After Hybern, I will destroy and grind every single structure in the damned Night Court to _dust_.”

Wrong. Just completely _wrong_ . For Tamlin will be destroyed by _me_.

“But, what about Ela—” Lucien cut off. A glare shot his way by Tamlin. And then, a flash of light. Tamlin had shifted into his beast form, huge and overpowering, with that golden fur and horns and fangs. Tamlin snarled at us, his rows and rows of sharp teeth gleaming, before prowling out of the dining room.

Lucien gave me another suspicious glance, staring intently at me, as if that would suck all my secrets and betrayals out of me. Yet his metal eye whirred, giving me a chilling feeling that he was slowly figuring everything out, when I had told him next to nothing. Another beat, another moment, and then he pushed back his full plate, barely any bites taken out of it, and left the dining room as well.

I was alone.

I turned the fork in my hand around and around, not having much of an appetite. A question for every cycle the fork made in my hand.

 _Would Tamlin choose me on Calanmai?_ A silver blur as I flipped the fork over

once. _Wouldn’t Rhys have to perform the rite as well?_ The fork danced in my hand.

_Is Tamlin so heartless to let Hybern ravage the human lands?_

A loud _thunk_ sound had me looking up. My immortal strength had sent the utensil flying at terminal speed toward the opposite wall. All the training with knife throwing I'd gotten from Cassian had resulted in my fork being imbedded in the expensive wood paneling to the handle. The fork was shuddering from the impact.

I left the room, leaving the utensil stuck in the wall. A mark of my dissatisfaction with so many questions, and so few answers.

❋ ❋ ❋

Tamlin found me in my room around midnight.

I knew he was there before he knocked on my door when I heard his footsteps on the staircase. He entered in his usual attire except for the baldric.

I slowly sat up as he crept toward the bed, and I tensed. He hadn’t visited my bedroom since I came back. Hadn’t shown any . . . desire. I’d let him put an arm around me, hold my hand, but I wouldn’t allow anything further.

Tamlin sat at the edge of the bed, making it creak while doing so. “I’m sorry for my . . . behavior earlier. With everything going on—managing the court and the deal with Hybern. It’s becoming too much to handle, and it’s hard to find spare time. Forgive me, Feyre, for not paying too close attention to you.”

I put on my invisible mask and smiled faintly as he reached for my hand. “Do what has to be done. You know I’ll always be here waiting for your return.” I wanted to gag at my words, at his scent, at his hands that were now reaching towards me.

I missed Rhys. Badly. I thought I was fine for the first few days, but withdrawal was beginning to kick in, and I found myself picturing him now and then.

A glimmer shot down the bond, comforting me.

Tamlin stroked a hand down my face.

“I love you.” He whispered. His fingers danced along my shoulder, going down on my arm.

I stifled a snarl. I’d sacrificed enough for Tamlin. He did not deserve any of my love or my body anymore.

I met Tamlin’s stare and willed all my focus into it. “I know.” Tamlin smiled, and leaned closer. Instantly, I stiffened. I stopped breathing. _Don't kiss me. Don't kiss me. Don't kiss me._

_Don't you fucking dare have sex with me._

Tamlin noticed me going rigid and held back a snarl of his own. Thankfully, he backed up and suddenly, air seemed to rush into my system as I started breathing again. “I love you,” he told me again. “I will destroy him.” A simple cold-hearted promise before he left my room.

By the Cauldron.

Once I was sure Tamlin’s footsteps were gone, I got out of bed to grab a piece of cream stationery and a pen from the desk across the room. Then, nestling in bed, I started to write.

 _I miss you._ The note quickly disappeared, before reappearing.

 _I certainly hope you do. If it wasn't the mating bond keeping you longing for me, I'd say it was my excellent love-making skills, wouldn't you think?_ I hissed.

 _Prick._ A simple word before the paper’s gone again. Then,

 _A prick, I've noticed, that you love._ A sort of smugness was sent down the mating bond toward me, and I sent the reminiscent of a snort back. Laughter bubbled inside me. After I was done laughing, I picked up the pen again to write on more serious topics.

 _Before Under the Mountain, Lucien told me that each of the seven High Lords of Prythian had to perform the Great Rite. When’s the Night Court’s Great Rite?_ Once the paper and pen disappeared, they didn't return for a long time. It took around five minutes before the two items dropped into my lap again.

_The Night Court doesn't participate in a Great Rite._

Wait, what?! Had Lucien been wrong in telling me that all seven High Lords performed the rite?

Quickly, looking for at least one answer to an unanswered question, I scribbled, _What do you mean?_ near a corner of the paper. The small piece of cream stationery was now practically covered in black. Again, it took some time before Rhys replied back.

_Starfall. The migration of the spirits during Starfall refreshes our court’s magic. Like Calanmai, it’s a give-and-take. The spirits leave us with newly replenished magic._

Before I could reply, the note was wiped clean. Startled, I sat up in bed.

“Who are you writing to, Feyre?”

Shit, shit, _shit_.

I turned around slowly. A russet eye and a metal eye stared back at me. Distracted as I was with Rhys, I had not heard Lucien winnow into my room.

“Tell me, Feyre… could that possibly be _Rhysand_ you were writing to?”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four — Rhysand

 

Once again, I was back in my mountaintop home, giving Feyre’s sisters the latest updates on the war, and informing them about the meeting in two days, and that their youngest sister would be there.

My mountaintop home was now thoroughly ruined. Nesta had seemingly taken the place for granted and, although I did not mind, had practically smashed every breakable item in sight, most likely in anger of having been Made High Fae. There were claw marks on the walls, although they were from fingernails, not the literal shadowy claws that both Feyre and I could summon. Perhaps claws that Nesta could also summon, with practice.

The pillows were shredded; the stuffing inside scattered throughout rooms. Several couches were upended. There were a few broken floorboards. Porcelain shards crunched under every step I took. The house was a mess.

I cleaned everything up with a wave of my hand, and replaced everything breakable with plastic. The claw marks on the walls disappeared, patched up. I misted the pillow stuffing that seemed to be  _ everywhere _ , and then just for the sake of showing off, I laid the entire breakfast table where we were sitting at with a gourmet lunch, complete with a flower arrangement, and the entire room modified with enhancements and decorations.

Elain oohed and ahhed while Nesta remained unimpressed, like I had expected. Instead, she picked up a finger sandwich and began to daintily munch on it.

“How's Feyre?” Nesta asked, voice cold. She acted indifferent towards her youngest sibling, but I was sure that under those pounds and pounds of steel, there was love.

At her question, however, I pursed my lips. Feyre and I had passed letters last night, but caught up in our usual banter, neither of us had been cautious enough. I'd wiped the note blank after sensing Lucien through Feyre and my mating bond, but I was sure that he knew at least  _ something _ . I did not anticipate danger for Feyre—Lucien’s mate, Elain, was with my court after all, and Feyre would have sent some sort of signal down the mating bond if something had happened. Still, it had been over sixteen hours, and the Illyrian part of me roared to be let free, to winnow to the Spring Court and snatch Feyre away to safety, to Velaris.

Oh. She would  _ hate _ that.

Nesta noticed my silence and snapped, “Well? What happened?”

“Feyre’s fine. Lucien, however…” I glanced toward Elain. She was twisting the iron ring around and around her finger. “I can't be too sure about Lucien.” Nesta wrinkled her nose at the name and then nodded, as if she wanted to know more about Feyre’s status, but didn't want to ask.

“I've been meaning to ask this.” Elain’s voice was like a whisper, barely loud enough for even my fae ears to hear, but automatically, Nesta turned to her, angling her body so that it shielded hers. Protecting Elain with her mind, body, and soul. “What of our father? Certainly he will be in danger if Hybern manages to successfully invade the our home.”  _ Our. _ Our, because she still referred to herself as human, and not High Fae.

Nesta hissed at the mention their father. I knew that both she and Feyre hated their him, though Nesta more so.

“Whatever you wish,” I said, spreading my hands. “I could have him brought here—”

“Not yet,” Nesta breathed, looking at Elain. She did not want their father to know what had been done to his daughters.  _ All _ of his daughters. Did not want that burden to be placed upon her now of all times.

I bobbed my head. “Of course. Let me know when you change your mind, and I’ll have him brought here in seconds.”

A quiet silence of a few minutes before Nesta spoke up again.

“And. . . the Illyrians?” Immediately, I sombered. Cassian’s condition hadn't gotten any better when I checked in on him this morning. The healer warned me that at this point, an amputation may be the wisest approach before a serious infection leads to his death.

I'd told the healer to do what she needed to do to save Cassian.

“Azriel is healing well. On the other hand, Cassian’s not. . . in the best state.” I grimaced, remembering what Mor had asked me to do. I looked up, into Nesta’s blue-gray eyes. “I need you to come to Velaris with me. Right now. I need your help.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What for?”

“There’s a situation back in my other household with Cassian.”  
Her eyes widened slightly at the mention of his name, but she held her ground and glared at me. “Why does it require my assistance?”

I returned the glare and walked up to Nesta so that our faces were inches apart. “Cassian sacrificed his wings for our brother. And I need  _ you _ to talk to him. Why? Do you really want me to answer that?” 

Nesta had the decency to sense the urgency, my desperation, and my underlying tone of rage because she held out her arm. “I'll be back,” she promised Elain. The younger sister nodded. 

I took Nesta’s arm and winnowed us into my townhouse, just outside Cassian’s room. Immediately, there was screaming. The sound filled the entire house.

“Mother-damn it! Why won't you just let me  _ die _ ? Just let me go, damn it. I'm useless to this court—to the world—without my wings.” At the word “wings”, the sobs magnified. So the healer had amputated Cassian’s wings. And Cassian was now utterly broken without them.

I peeked inside Cassian’s room and swore under my breath.

The bedroom was a mess—there was much more damage than what Nesta had created at my mountain home, if that was possible. The amputation must have sent Cassian into a primal rage, both physically and magically. The windows were broken, and crushed glass and splintered wood lay everywhere. Across the room, there were dents in the wall, and a huge hole next to the bed frame. The only thing intact seemed to be the bed.

Nesta stayed silent, but a glimmer of sorrow seemed to be in her eyes. She immediately followed the source of the sound.

“Fuck off, Mor. Azriel. Amren. None of you understand. My wings. . . my wings. . . they’re  _ gone _ .” Angered shouts followed. My own wings tingled. They were hidden under my skin, not having been summoned, but a ghost memory tickled them of when poisoned ash arrows had pierced them. I had thought I'd lost my wings then, but Feyre had saved them. Cassian’s sorrow also had me remembering the nightmares from Under the Mountain. Amarantha had tore off so many wings from so many faeries.

“Cassian, stop,” Mor begged.

I shuddered, shaking off the stupor of memories, before going after Nesta to check on Cassian, and we entered the room.

“I hope you brought back-up,” Amren grumbled through sweat and tears as I entered through the doorway with Nesta and shoved down Cassian’s arms again. His biceps flexed as he struggled. 

The space here was worse; the peek I’d snuck earlier had not done the room justice. There seemed to be blood everywhere. Blood on the sheets, blood on the floor, blood on the walls, blood on Amren and Mor and Azriel. Blood on the bandages still covering Azriel’s chest. They should’ve been changed hours ago. Frustration boiled in my blood. I’d spent the past hour at my mountaintop home, and before that, taking care of various matters at the House of Wind and throughout the Night Court. I should’ve been here.

“Cassian,” Mor pleaded again. “Please. Stop struggling. You’re making it worse.”

“Stop?” Cassian gave a cold and vicious laugh. A chill ran up my spine. This Cassian was not the Cassian I knew. “My wings are gone. I am already at my worst.”

“Cassian. Look at me,” I said, with enough lethal calm that he stopped thrashing. He merely blinked at me. “Are you really going to let the loss of your wings wreck you? After all the things you’ve accomplished? Five hundred years of memories and friends and savory battles, and you’re going to give up  _ now _ ? By the Cauldron, Cassian. You didn’t slay an entire legion of Hybern’s army by yourself just to die now. You didn’t spend all these years defending Velaris and the Night Court for nothing. You didn’t survive through prejudice and bloodshed and war and tragedy and everything else in between just to stop, and die, not even on a battlefield, but in bed with all of your friends around you. Your friends, Cassian. You may label yourself as a worthless bastard deserving of no one until the day you die, and today better not be that day, but. Your friends, Cassian,” I said, repeating myself. “Me. Azriel. Mor. Amren. Feyre. Hell, even Nesta.” I cast the woman in mention a side glance; Cassian hadn’t sensed her yet. “Just to boost your ego, if you kill yourself, we’re all going to miss you a lot. Maybe even a few centuries. Maybe more.” I forced a light-hearted chuckle out. “If you kill yourself now, you stupid, egotistical bastard, I am going to pummel you into eternity whenever we see each other again.”

A heartbeat passed before he started chuckling. We were all silent as the chuckling grew and turned into cackling. He did not look good. Bandages went around and around his bare body, tinged with sweat. It took Amren, Azriel, and Mor to hold him down as he thrashed again in bed. It was painful to see him in this state.

“Cass—”

“Just kill me,” he repeated, cackling at the same time. I winced. “Because you’re right, Rhys. You’re always right. I  _ am _ worthless. Even more so than ever before. Who wants an Illyrian bastard without wings?” He laughed again, a harsh sound that pulled at my heart. Tears stained his cheeks, and blood was seeping through his bandages. Sweat and tears gleamed on my other three court members. My speech had gone completely unheard.

It would only take one well-aimed hit for him to take out one of the three people holding him down, and if that happened, everything in this bedroom would fall to hell.

And that wasn't going to happen—not on my watch, not when my heart was shredding apart as I watched my brother destroy himself. I gently nudged Nesta and nodded at her. Nesta may preach all day about hating faeries, but she looked at Cassian differently. There was still distaste in those eyes, yet deep down—beneath all those layers she wrapped herself in, there was a glint of something else. 

“Cassian,” she said. Cassian’s laughing slowed a bit, and his struggling subsided slightly. “Cassian,” she said again.

The air in the room chilled.

“What are you doing here?” he rasped, finally noticing her. Part of me felt like throwing my arms in the air; my heart-touching speech had done practically nothing, while Nesta saying Cassian’s name twice had him nearly calming down to a sane man again. 

Nesta walked over to his side and took one of his hands in hers—they were 

almost twice the size of hers. I nodded slowly at Amren, Azriel, and Mor. Cautiously, their grip loosened, and then, they let go of the parts of Cassian they'd been holding down. Cassian’s limbs went limp, he wasn't struggling anymore. Nesta had a queer affect on Cassian, but it wasn’t my place to linger, and nor of my court’s. I cocked my head toward the dining room, and the three followed me outside.

“I’m sorry,” Cassian was saying. Crying. It hurt to see him cry, but it had hurt even more to see him laughing, losing his mind and his kind heart. “I'm sorry. I failed you Nesta. I couldn't defend you. I’m sorry.” Nesta ignored his apologies.

“I hope you plan on keeping your immortal ass alive,” she said.

I nudged my remaining court away from the doorway, and motioned for them to go downstairs. Let Nesta and Cassian have their moment. Hopefully, enough to keep Cassian from doing something utterly stupid that would leave me ravaged and broken for centuries. 

❋ ❋ ❋

My court was absolutely exhausted. Mor informed me that they'd held down Cassian for nearly two hours—the surgery on his wings had been completed three hours ago. He'd started thrashing, and no amount of magic had been able to keep him down.

We agreed to leave them alone for the time being. Let him get his thoughts organized. Let him get back up on his feet—we needed him on his feet, and soon.

Azriel was unusually quiet, even quieter than usual. I had a feeling he blamed the destruction of Cassian’s wings on himself. But despite Cassian’s cries for death, I knew he'd be more than willing to sacrifice his wings all over again for Azriel, or any of us.

“We should start building alliances,” Amren said, as we sit down at the dining table. Two chairs were empty. Cassian and Feyre.

I laughed, a hoarse laugh, stemming from the simple ridiculousness of the statement, and from sorrow for Cassian.

“No one would want an alliance with the Night Court,” I said. “We’re on our own.” Amren shook her head.

“I've been in contact with Varian. I think… I think we can gain an alliance with Summer.” Everyone, myself included, showed signs of surprise. Even Azriel blinked.

“Have you told him anything?” I asked. Amren shook her head.

“Tarquin is devastated, though, according to Varian. He really wanted that alliance.”

“Then an alliance with Summer Court. Obviously, an invitation to visit won't work, and we can't exactly saunter in either. Everyone in Summer will know that Amren and Rhys, as well as Feyre, should be killed on sight.” Mor looked to me as she detailed our current issues with Summer Court.

“Then we kidnap him,” I breathed. “Kidnap Tarquin, bring him here, explain everything.”

“That could be a declaration of war,” Amren reminded me. “As soon as his court realizes he's missing and kidnapped, they'll declare war on the Night Court. Infiltrate Summer Court instead. I can get Varian to help us. We isolate Tarquin in his chambers, get him to listen to us. Less risk of being discovered.” I nodded.

“Two days from now, after the meeting with the Archeron sisters. We’ll strike.”

“Then I'll contact my sources in Summer Court about keeping an eye on Tarquin’s movements,” Azriel said.

“Then it’s settled. I want Feyre with me, and Amren. The blood rubies are meant for us, so it has to be us that has to explain to Tarquin.”

“What about Feyre? She’s coming to the meeting in two days time, but won’t her absence at Spring Court be noted?” Mor asked.

“Not if Lucien wants to see Elain again.” I replied, before flashing a smile at my court. “I’m sure Feyre has something up her sleeves.”

❋ ❋ ❋

An hour later, Nesta returned, strolling down the stairway. The others had left as they had other business. Az had left to check with his spies, Amren was going back to her apartment to continue studying the Book, and Mor was still overseeing casualties and reconstruction in Velaris; some of our citizens needed reassurance and a moral boost. I was in the parlor, studying some reports on the current status of the other courts Az had left me. The High Priestesses had heavy influence in several of the other courts, but now that Summer Court might  _ potentially _ be an ally, I had some slim hopes for at least one more court to befriend and alliance with.

“Take me back” was all Nesta said.

“What did you say to him?” I asked. The house had been quiet for quite some time now. It was rather disorienting.

“You can ask him about it later. Now take me back.” Her icy glare pierced my skin, but she seemed strangely unsettled. Perhaps I  _ would _ ask Cassian what had happened between him and Nesta. Certainly Nesta had done wonders to him, as sharp and cold as she was. Perhaps having him talk about her while she’s gone will keep him sane and forgetful about the wings that were no longer attached to his back. Maybe he was the key to thawing her frozen shield. And she the answer to keeping him alive and sane.

I took a closer look at Nesta and noticed a splotch of blood on her forearm. Things have certainly happened in that room.

“It seems to me like Cassian’s not screaming obscenities anymore.” I glanced toward his room. And then just to lighten the day’s events. “Maybe you should stay here. Have him warm your bed.” 

“I’ll do no such thing. Besides, he has you to do that for him.” Nesta countered. I merely smiled. “Instead of insulting me, why don’t you go help your friend?” 

“Worried about him, are you? Was there something I missed between you two?” Cassian never mentioned anything, but I’d noticed the shift in him whenever Nesta was around. 

The icy shield faltered for a moment, but she held my gaze. “I wonder what my sister sees in you.” 

“A handsome, delightful, cunning High Lord. A bit of arrogance too. What’s not to see?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Take me back. And maybe I’ll deign to return tomorrow.” I smirked and held out my arm for her to hold on to.

“I’m sure Cassian will tell you that the offer for bed-warming will always stand. But as you wish.”

She gave me a vulgar gesture, identical to the one Feyre had more than often pointed at me, before accepting my arm, and then we folded into wind and dust as we winnowed back to the mountaintop.

❋ ❋ ❋

I needed a break from all the business I was to do, so I stayed at my private home at the mountaintop.

Nesta retreated to her room as soon as we landed. I wondered what exactly happened between them, but Cassian needed space for now and Nesta wouldn’t budge. 

I’d heard quite a few stories about Illyrians who had lost their wings. Illyrians who had fought fiercely or committed treacherous actions. They all died within minutes after the loss of their wings. My heart broke for Cassian, and I was grateful that Nesta had calmed him down. As Nesta left for her room, I tried to convince myself he was fine, that he would likely start screaming again if I tried to talk to him again, or he’d probably tell me to stop looking after him like an overbearing mother.

Elain stood at the threshold of the room. “What happened?” She was wearing a delicate pink dress that ran down to the floor with sleeves that hung loosely around her elbows.

“Cassian lost his wings.” I said.  I didn’t want to get into detail.

She raised her eyebrows. “Why did Nesta have to be there?” 

“He would’ve committed suicide” is all I said. 

“Oh.” Her voice became small. “I see.” Several minutes pass, and I shift my weight from leg to leg. I wasn’t sure what to say to Feyre’s older sister, other than curse and yell at her for abandoning Feyre when she—when they were both—human.

“Would you like a tour?” I asked instead, when the silence got unbearable. For the thousandth time, I wished my mate was here.

Elain smiled faintly and straightened. “Yes. I would like that.”

I walked Elain throughout the entire house, stopping by each room and tossing around a few facts about each one. 

“Your sister threw her shoe at my head here. It was a lovely reunion with her,” I tell Elain when we reach the hall where I had first winnowed in with Feyre. She giggled nervously, like she wasn’t sure whether I was being sarcastic or actually annoyed.

A few minutes later, I asked, “How do you feel?” Elain seemed to be assimilating into her fae body, but she seemed extremely out of place, especially with her eyes, which twitched with anxiety, as if expecting someone to jump out of a dark corner and snatch her away.

“Being High Fae?” she sighed. “Everything is so different now. I can’t… I can’t ever go back to the human realm.” Once again, she started twisting the iron ring that was still on her finger. “I keep tripping over my feet, sometimes I talk too loud, or Nesta does, and we’re left with headaches. And the strength… I can’t control it. You saw what Nesta did to the house. I’m… I’m trying to contain it.” I nodded, knowing the feeling from when Feyre had first become High Fae, and I’d felt her struggles through our bargain bond.

“You’ll get used to it,” I said quietly.

“Perhaps. But I’d rather be human.” I stayed silent and led her around the balconies in my home. After showing pointing out some of the views, I spoke up again.

“Are you afraid of me?” I asked. She’d become very quiet, and seemed to stare into space rather than the beautiful mountains lit by an oncoming sunset that loomed ahead.

“I do not want to be,” she answered softly. “You are very kind, but it is… it is hard to discount decades of rumors.” I nodded. “But I am also afraid of Nesta.”

“Nesta?” I questioned. Elain glanced toward me, her brown eyes filled with innocence—yet also, sorrow.

“Not in the way you think. Nesta is… Nesta is herself. I’m terrified of what she might do to herself, what she might do to the world, to protect me.” I nodded again, and that was that.

Elain was quietly polite for the rest of the tour. She asked about gardens, and I showed her the small greenhouse I kept in the house, which she seemed mildly interested in. Perhaps having been Made had destroyed some small, innate part of her. I made a mental note to myself to pick up some special seed packets in Velaris for her to plant in the greenhouse. Gardening would help her state of mind. Otherwise, Elain didn’t particularly show interest in any of the other rooms until we got to the library.

“Wow,” Elain breathed as she took in the shelves of books. “Do you read often?”

“I used to read a lot when I was young. Now, not so much.” A slight pang of sadness. 

“There are some books that are out.” Elain noticed. “Is there anyone else who uses this library then?”

Indeed, there were a few books scattered around. My heart sunk as I remembered who used them.

“Feyre read these books.”  
Elain’s head snapped up to look at me. “She can read now?” Elain went to one of the tables and picked up a book and started turning the pages. “This is an advanced book. Who taught her?”

I grinned at the memories popping in my mind. “I did.”

“Did you also teach her how to write?” 

“Yes. Although, it took force.” I smiled fiendishly as I remembered what I had Feyre copy down day after day.  _ Rhysand is interesting; Rhysand is gorgeous; Rhysand is flawless. _ If I could still clearly communicate mind-to-mind with Feyre, I knew what she’d say in response to the phrases I’d just thought.  _ Insufferable, arrogant, Illyrian prick. Quit distracting me. _

Elain was now looking at me with wonder. “Thank you. I’ve—I’ve always wanted her to learn.”

My eyes darkened. “Why wasn’t she taught at home?”

Elain cut off her gaze from me and stared at the bookshelves that lined the walls. Her eyes glinted with shame and guilt, and she looked down at her shoes. “She never wanted to learn, wasn’t interested in it like she was with painting. And I made the mistake of never pushing her.”

“What about Nesta?” 

A soft chuckle. “She was too busy making our father feel like trash and had more fun bullying Feyre about it rather than teaching her.”

“Wonderful,” I drawled.

“I know the mistakes that I made, and Nesta knows of hers,” Elain said in defense. She went to one of the shelves and started scanning the titles. “Tell me more about Feyre’s stay here. Tell me about Prythian. Tell me about everything.” I leaned against a shelf, picking at my nails, slightly amused.

“What do you want to hear about first then? Feyre? Or your mate, Lucien?” Elain’s breath caught for half a second before returning to normal.

“Tell me about Feyre. And then I want to know what exactly is between me and… and him.” 

“What about your betrothed?” I asked, curious.

“There’s no going back,” she answered. After a few seconds, she repeated her request before. “Tell me about Feyre.” I conceded, but stayed silent for several moments as I stared forward, looking at nothing and everything as I thought about my mate.

“Feyre is. . . extraordinary.” She was more than that. So much more that I didn’t deserve her. “She shattered herself to save the high lord she loved to save Prythian and the mortal lands.”

Elain’s eyes flickered to me. “She doesn’t love him anymore.” I shrugged.

“I think she still does, deep down. She loves him for what he’d done for her. And she hates him for what he did to her.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Elain said. “She loves you now.” I chuckle.

“Is it that obvious?” Other than the facts that our scents were mingled.

“My sister didn't mention that you were obnoxious,” she answered, and I smirked as she continued. “In both the human and fae world, the Night Court… the Night Court isn’t well received. The High Lord of the Night Court… they say that you torture for fun, terrify for joy, kill for lust.” Again, Elain’s eyes flickered to me, as if to gauge my reaction. But I had no reaction. I’d heard these stories, over and over, through the centuries, and they were my armor and shield. “And when Feyre walks into our house with the Night Court, with confidence, of all things, well…” She shrugged. “Obviously you either brainwashed her, which is unlikely. I doubt anyone could brainwash Feyre. Or she clearly saw something very special in you.”

Elain slid out two books from the shelves. “It didn’t take very long for me, or Nesta for the matter, to figure out that it was the second one.” She waved the books at me as she left the room. “Tell me about Lucien later. I hope you don’t mind me borrowing these books.” A flash of a smile, and then she was gone.

And I was left leaning against a bookcase in the library, wondering why anyone ever thought Elain was weak.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five — Feyre

 

Lucien’s metal eye whirred at me as he stepped out of the shadows. His red hair was loosely tied back.

He stopped a good two feet away from my bed. “Were you writing to Rhys?” he asked again with bitter seriousness.

I wouldn’t reveal my cards yet. Not when he didn’t have my trust. So I peered at him with a confused look plastered on my face. “I was just going to write to my father to tell him of my sisters’ whereabouts. Why would I ever write to that monster, after everything he’s done to me?” I hated myself for those words, but Lucien still needed to believe the act. “And why are you in my room? Isn't that against protocol for the Spring Court emissary or something?”

“You can stop with the act now, Feyre.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Before I could protest or move out of the way, he lunged forward, grabbed my hand, and we winnowed out of my room.

❋❋❋

We landed atop a blanket of underbrush, and I immediately scrambled away from Lucien. I was going to yell and curse at him, would have even unleashed those talons, but I paused as I noticed the scenery.

I could tell we were deep in the forest—a part I hadn’t yet traveled. We were in a small clearing, with a creek. The dense trees covered up a majority of the night sky, leaving only a circular opening near the middle. 

Around us, small winged creatures that glowed darted left and right. Lucien whistled a soft tune, and the creatures assembled in a circle, illuminating the forest.

“What are they?” I breathed, my mouth opened in awe.

“Yansis. Lesser faeries. They’re like miniature versions of High Fae, although they have iridescent wings, like insects, and their skin tones are whatever color they radiate.” Lucien said. I peered at the glowing creatures, and found that they did indeed looked like High Fae, with beautiful ethereal faces and pointed ears. The lights before us were a rainbow of colors, and the yansis’ skin tones were differently colored, like Lucien said, from brown to blue to orange.

He walked up to a small creek at the side and gestured to a rock ledge before sitting down on it. I followed.

We were silent for a moment. The only sound was the soft hum of the yansis and the trickle of the water. I looked at Lucien and watched him fiddle with his fingers. “Where are we?”

He stopped playing with his fingers and slackened his posture. “My favorite place in the Spring Court. I found it during a hunt a few decades ago. And now I come here whenever I need peace and quiet.” Indeed, this place was calm. Maybe I’d paint it one day—after the war.

“I’m guessing Tamlin doesn’t know about it?” Lucien shook his head. I wondered if Tamlin’s anger sometimes drove him to seek solace in this beautiful clearing. “Tell me why we’re here.”

Lucien’s mouth tightened. “I’ll be honest with you, if you’ll be honest with me.” I raised my eyebrows, and he sighed. “Centuries ago, I fell in love with a woman that my father thought was beneath my station. He and my brothers slaughtered her, and made me watch as they did it. Afterwards, Tamlin took me in, protected me all these centuries.” I remembered Tamlin telling me this same story nearly a year ago. He sighed and stared into space for a few moments. “He's changed, though. Under the Mountain. . . it shattered some part of him. Tam’s become more overprotective, more easily provoked, more vulnerable. You have no idea how much Tamlin truly loves you.”

_ Too much _ , Rhys had said.  _ Love can be a poison. _ I looked up at the night sky and the stars that dotted it. I’d see my mate soon.

Lucien continued. “When we came back the day you were taken by the Night Court,”  _ The day he locked me up _ . “Tamlin was furious. He punished the entire court for not doing anything to stop it. The guards were punished with lashes, and treated miserably from that day forward. And when you sent the letter about how you left on your own will. . . it—it broke him. He denied it and convinced himself that you were somehow brainwashed by Rhysand. After all, you were illiterate, and didn’t know how to read or write. He already told you that he was looking for a way for you to get out of the bargain, but after that day, he started seeking help from even the wickedest of creatures.” Lucien paused, taking in a deep breath. “The prick even tried catching the Suriel to ask of your status, but failed. Props to you, Feyre for catching such a creature as a  _ human _ . I failed in my attempt to do so as well.”

“I caught the Suriel again, actually. At the Night Court. Is it really that hard? I mean, you were the one who told me how to do it.” I pointed out. Even one of the most powerful High Lord in the history of Prythian couldn’t catch the Suriel. I wondered why the Suriel had let itself be caught by me again.

His metal eye narrowed as he chuckled softly. The scars on his face somehow enhanced the beauty of his face—in a rough and crude way. “I’d like to know why you would seek the Suriel again, but that can come later.” Lucien swallowed. “You’re a real treasure, Feyre. Which is why you need to know what else happened during your absence.”

I braced myself as he looked out in the distance, his eyes glinting with sadness.

“You noticed before—that Ianthe was pursuing me.” Lucien said quietly.

Anger welled up in me as I recalled the piece of Rhysand’s memory he’d shared with me of his history with Ianthe. The arrogance in that gesture. . . If she was so forward with the High Lord of the Night Court, I could only imagine what she had done to Lucien.

“It was difficult to deal with her because she was a close friend of Tamlin, and I couldn’t get on her bad side. She knew that, and she used that to her advantage. The first two times, I refused her. But at her third attempt, she brought up the Autumn Court. She said she was close to a High Priestess there and she could easily get her to become friends with my mother. . .and manipulate her. I couldn’t risk what her friend would end up doing to my mother.”

I was going to throw up. Ianthe. . . that  _ snake _ . “Why didn’t you tell me?” I gritted through my teeth.

“It would’ve only caused disorder in the court,” Lucien merely said. “After you left, Ianthe was the one who suggested that Tamlin work with the King of Hybern. I tried to talk him out of it, how bad of an idea it was, but it was too late. By then, Tamlin was desperate and vulnerable—so, so vulnerable. She seduced him and took him to bed. And he just went along with it. . . and it continued for a while.”

He paused, waiting for a response, but I didn’t have one. I thought of the chance of them together before. . . I wasn’t completely surprised. We were both traitors. Fine.

Lucien continued, his voice dropping to a faint whisper. “Not only that. . . but I think she’s pregnant.” 

My eyes widened as my head twisted to fully face Lucien, but he was only looking down at his hands. They went as far. . . I cleared my thoughts, reminding myself of my own actions. “ _ Think? _ ”

A slow nod. “After a while, they had a lot of private conversations. The fact that she disappeared raises my suspicions that she’s trying to hide something.”

I nodded slowly. I wasn’t mad. I wasn’t sad. I didn’t have the right to be either anyway. “Thank you for telling me.” I said softly.

“You deserve to know.” 

Did I? I had practically done the same thing. I had the same traitorous thoughts. It just—just. . . I didn’t know what to feel.

We sat in silence for a long time, listening to the soothing sounds of nature and watching the yansis dance in the air, a constantly shifting rainbow. Light shafts bounced off of their iridescent wings, creating mist-like refractions around us. It was a truly magical place.

“How do you perceive Rhysand?” I asked, breaking the ice. “Truthfully.” I added. Lucien inspected his hands in earnest, giving me only a side glance of suspicion. 

“Amarantha’s whore,” I tensed at the two words. How Rhysand must’ve felt for fifty years had to be unbearable. But he endured it anyway.  _ Alone _ . I had an idea now of why Rhysand had felt so justified in punishing Kier for calling me a whore. “The Lord of Night who killed without mercy, who tortured and manipulated countless. A sadistic bastard who did all that for  _ fun _ .” 

_ No. Not true at all. It was all a mask. You know nothing about him. He _ —

“Or so I believed,” I looked at him in surprise. “Under the Mountain, when he killed that Summer Court faerie. I thought he defied her for his own amusement. But I later realized it was a mercy for him to be killed. I wondered if there had been accomplices, and Rhys lied about it.” 

He had. In fact, there were entire forces preparing to infiltrate Under the Mountain, but Rhys spared them. But the only people who knew that were me, Tarquin, and Rhys.

“And then at your final trial, he fought for you. He screamed your name over and over. He was the only one who dared to help you. The only one brave enough, or perhaps at the time, stupid enough, to raise a knife to Amarantha. Thinking back, I should’ve done the same thing, or at least  _ something _ that would ease your struggles. I’m so sorry you had to endure that torture by yourself.”

I shuddered. “You came to visit me in my cell and healed my injuries from the Attor and his cronies. You were held helpless by your brothers, risked your mind from being shattered, and withheld my name from Amarantha. You warned me about the Middengard Wyrm and earned twenty lashes from your friend. Your life was in my hands in the second trial, and I nearly failed that one. Lucien, you’ve done more than enough for me Under the Mountain.” But everyone else—everyone else just watched me break apart. Even Tamlin, who sat beside Amarantha and thought not reacting would help me and then later, thought begging would save me. It struck me then, how Lucien was able to stand up to Amarantha, but not to Tamlin. 

“But it wasn’t enough to keep you from becoming so traumatized.”

I didn’t think anything could’ve prevented me from how I felt and what became of me after Under the Mountain. Not even Rhys.

Lucien continued. “When I found you again in the woods, you were a different person. You wore the Illyrian fighting leathers and had an arrow aimed at me. But. . . your body was fuller, you stood taller, and you just looked. . . _ alive _ . And for a moment, I was relieved—relieved that you were better off. But at that time, I needed you back because the Spring Court was utter chaos. And then you shifted, and it was then, when I thought Rhysand actually had you on a leash. So I told myself that maybe Tamlin was doing the right thing.”

“And then. . . at Hybern, I saw how you stood with his court. I saw that bond. . . that link between all of you. Then the King. . .” Lucien shook his head ruefully. “I told Tamlin so many times, not to trust the King of Hybern. And to be wary of Ianthe. But he wouldn’t listen. He still doesn’t listen. And everything happened with the queens, and the Night Court, and your sisters. And I became aware of how wrong everything had gone. I should’ve just snuck you out. You were right about what you said in the forest—that  _ I  _ was the one who gave up.”

The yansis were swaying, their tiny hands gripping the ones at each side.

“I was afraid of him,” he breathed. “When we got back from Under the Mountain, Tamlin felt powerful again—he’d felt so weak when he lost his powers. But after the events Under the Mountain, he became even so paranoid. He was so scared of having everything taken away again, and that bargain you had with Rhys didn’t help. I tried Feyre, I really did try to convince him to let you out of the house, to train you, but Ianthe kept interfering. And whenever I pushed farther than I should have, it pushed Tamlin too.”

I recalled the conversation I overheard between Tamlin, Lucien, and Ianthe, discussing what to do about me—deciding my fate. Lucien had argued for my sake, and Ianthe had dismissed it as if there was no chance for me. And Tamlin sided with her.

I trembled as I remembered the last part of the memory—when Tamlin snarled at Lucien and magic reverberated through the house.

“Lucien,” I stared at him with earnest eyes. “Were you. . . Did Tamlin ever hurt you?” 

Because if he did, it gave me another reason to destroy him. I could feel the talons already, struggling to take form.

“That’s a story for another ti—”

“No,” I snarled. “You said honesty for honesty. I’m done with all the secrets. He is not your keeper, and you should have no reason,  _ none _ , to be afraid of him. You are worth more than you think, Lucien. Talk to me.”

Lucien smiled faintly. “Thank you.” He sighed before he continued. “Tam was the only one kind enough to accept me when I had nowhere else to go. He knew what kind of father I had and yet he stayed by my side. When he named me his emissary, I finally thought I had a place. He fought for me, and I fought for him. I owed him a lot for what he gave me. But after Under the Mountain, he became controlling and demanding. There was so much to do to bring stability back to the Spring Court, and we also had to get rid of the creatures that terrorized the lands. It was overwhelming, and he also had the overpowering need to protect you. And because of all that, the stress, the nightmares, and memories from Under the Mountain. . . it irritated him whenever I tried to side with you. I only urged him enough to annoy him, but that day when I tried to persuade him to train you, I pushed too far, and. . . and—

“You don’t have to tell me.” An image of a ruined study room flashed in my mind. I shook away the thoughts. “Has he hurt you after that?”

Lucien raised a hand. “I think that’s enough about me. Tell me about what really happened at the Night Court.”

The fact that he was stammering slightly and didn’t want to elaborate must’ve meant there were worse stories. Lucien was enduring so much—Ianthe, Tamlin, this entire situation—the whole time. It was only then, when I realized that Lucien had been struggling his entire immortal existence, as well, from the brutal Autumn Court to the protective, yet selfish Spring Court.

“You call him Rhys,” I noted. Lucien cocked his head at me, the yansis’ light shining on his scar.

“Yes,” he said. “We’d been. . . acquainted before.” Like Rhys and Tamlin. How many relationships had been destroyed because of prejudice and fear against the Night Court or of Rhysand’s own self-sacrifice to save his court?

“Of course you have,” I murmured. And then louder, “Aren’t you familiar with practically everyone with power in Prythian?” Lucien shrugged.

“Some on better terms than others.” He turned his head toward me, and scrutinized me. His metal eye whirred.

“I have told you the truth. So trust me with yours, Feyre. What really went on in the Night Court?” I bit my lip. To trust, or not to trust? Rhys shot something down the mating bond to me—a warm feeling of. . . trust, in me. Trust that I'd make the right judgement in sharing the truth with Lucien. I leveled his gaze with one of my own. Hard, unyielding. I willed the gaze of the High Lady of the Night Court to match Lucien’s.

“Convince me that what you just said to me was entirely true. Make me trust you. Show me why I should trust you.” He cocked his head to the side, like he was deciding something.

Lucien stood up. “I'll show you. But we’re going to have to use that shadow trick of yours.” I raised an eyebrow. “We’re going into Tam’s study. You've been in there plenty of times, but it's warded. He’s out on a last minute mission, so don’t worry about him. But if he smells both of our scents in there, he’ll know something’s up. And that first time you did it, in the manor, Alis said she couldn't see you, smell you, or anything,” he explained. “So do your magic, and I’ll winnow us in there.”

“I—This will be my first time consciously doing this.” I took his hand and closed my eyes.

“You can do it.”

I could do it. I closed my eyes and reached for the dark powers that slumbered within me, the ones that were created by fear and loss. When I opened my eyes again, shadows danced between my fingers, and swirled around my legs. Delighted, I willed those shadows to wrap around myself and then Lucien. I was darkness. Complete darkness that threatened to consume us.

A few seconds later revealed the study, covered in Tamlin’s scent, courtesy of Lucien’s winnowing. Months ago, I had been terrified of the study. The study barely had any natural light filtering through it, and there was only one exit. I had felt trapped here months before, had felt like this was just another, fainter version of Under the Mountain. Now, there was only displeasure, of what Tamlin had done in this room.

And now. . . the Feyre before, the girl who'd been in love with Tamlin, she hadn't bothered to categorize details. The Feyre after, the Feyre I was now. . . I scanned around, memorizing the details of the study.

The expansive room had a huge table in the middle of the room, and a desk toward the corner. A few armchairs toward the wall. An oversized pearl armoire stood to the side. Otherwise, Tamlin’s study was relatively plain.

“Are you ready?” He asked. I quirked an eyebrow, but shrugged and waved for him to go on. He reached for the elegant pearl handles on the armoire. Several heartbeats passed as he gripped them tightly, his hands turning white. Lucien took a deep breath. And then he flung open the armoire. Inside was a huge black expanse, long and silky and. . . wings.

Amputated wings. 

My jaw dropped open as I realized who these wings belonged to. 

Two sets of wings. One, large and elegant and beautiful, and next to it was a smaller version.

These were the wings Rhysand had told me that Tamlin’s father had taken as trophies. From his mother and sister. Both murdered in cold blood.

And this whole time, they were trapped here.

I instantly went on tiptoes and reached for them, to bring them down—

“No.” Lucien gripped my right forearm. “You can’t.”

“To hell I can’t,” I snapped. “Let go.”

“Tamlin will suspect something if he notices them gone.”

“There’s  _ dust _ on them, Lucien. When was the last time he checked on them? Decades ago? Let go,” I growled. Lucien glared at me.

“It’s not just your life at stake here, Feyre. You can’t take the wings. If Tamlin finds out, not only will our lives go to hell, but possibly Prythian’s as well.” Rage. Rage seeped through me. Rage for Tamlin for keeping the wings of my mate’s loved ones here, in a dusty armoire. Rage at Lucien, for not having done anything about it until now, despite the fact that he had no reason to help Rhysand. Rage, rage, rage. I felt the fiery power of the Autumn Court coursing through me.

And my right arm burst into an inferno.

But Lucien did not react, didn’t even flinch or blink. Lucien was from the Autumn Court. He had his own inferno hiding just under his skin. The fire did not affect him.

I extinguished the flames and then thrust out my left hand, rotating my hips at the same time for maximum power, and I was fast. Faster than Lucien could react, and my fist punched him in the chest, sending him flying to the wall on the other side. 

I snarled, shaking out my left hand. Lucien was right about Tamlin, though. If I took these wings, and he noticed, he’ll suspect Lucien, because how many other people knew about the beautiful Illyrian wings nestled in the armoire in his study? But I couldn’t bear the idea of these wings being in here a second longer, they’d suffered enough for the past four or so centuries. Carefully, I brought the large set down, Rhysand’s mother’s, and set it on the mostly cleared table. Then, the smaller set. I already knew what I would do with them. I would winnow them. . . to somewhere safe. Keep them hidden there for another day, during which time I’ll bring them with me to the Summer Court, and I’d give them to Rhys. So he could decide what to do with the wings that the Spring Court had stolen off his family’s backs.

The entire study was covered with Tamlin’s scent, but a fresher gust wafted to my nose. Tamlin was back.

I closed the armoire doors as quietly as possible, and went over to grab Lucien, whose single russet eye was burning with anger. There was a tiny dent in the wall, from Lucien’s head, but hopefully, Tamlin wouldn’t notice it.

I gripped Lucien tightly, carefully grabbed the two sets of wings, checked that during my fit of anger, the shadows that surrounded us were still up, and winnowed out.

❋❋❋

We staggered as we plopped into the gallery room. I wasn't sure why I had winnowed us here, but it seemed like a safe place to hide the wings until I could get them to Rhysand.

The gallery. I'd seen it many times, but it was still as breathtaking as the first time I entered. The night light shone through the windows, creating spotlights for multiple paintings.

“You should not have taken the wings,” Lucien growled at me again. I ignored him.

“Tomorrow,” I said to Lucien, carefully clutching the wings. “Tomorrow, I’m going to the Night Court. Come with me.”

His gaze was fixed hard upon me. “You still haven’t told me what happened to you. Truth for truth, Feyre.”

I sucked in a breath. “I told you before, Lucien—when you spend so long trapped in darkness, you find that the darkness begins to stare back. During my stay with Rhysand, I became the High Lady of the Night Court.”

Lucien’s russet eye widened as his metal one whirred, and he stumbled back a step. “But. . . that. . . there’s no such thing.”

I gave him a mischievous smile as I rolled up the sleeve on my right arm and released the glamour I'd kept on it day and night. Whorls of black ink appeared. Surprise lit up Lucien’s face as he realized that I still had a tattoo, and that it was on the opposite arm. “Oh, there's definitely such a thing. I am the first High Lady in Prythian history.” Thrill shot through the mating bond to me, and I knew it was Rhys, answering to my confession.

“And that means you’re still mates with Rhys, like I suspected.” I nodded. “So Rhysand truly has not hurt you? I can see that he isn’t what meets the eye. . . but—”

“Rhysand wouldn’t hurt a single hair on my body. He’s not that type of person,” I said. “He healed me instead.”

Lucien nodded, slowly. “What about your sisters?” I smiled gently.

“I’m sure they’re being cared for. Both of them, Nesta and. . . Elain.” Lucien breathed a sigh of relief. 

“We’re heading to the Summer Court border tomorrow night. Rhys will be waiting there to winnow us.” Lucien looked at me speculatively.

“What makes you think I’m coming with you?” he asked. “There’s no reason to bring me. And what makes you think I won’t betray all the Night Court secrets and everything else you’ve just told me to Tamlin?” I took a deep breath.  _ Here comes. _ I looked Lucien square in the eyes—one russet, one metal.

“You know what Tamlin’s doing is wrong. Just for the sake of having me, of leashing me to the Spring Court, he willingly gave away millions of innocent lives. He’s practically  _ invited _ Hybern to destruct our world, as well as the world of the humans. Perhaps Under the Mountain did destroy a part of him, but the truth is that the Tamlin now is selfish. He gave up the entire world just to keep a girl.”

“And for his own beliefs, for his own gains, for his own stubborn mind. . . he’s hurt me, you, and every other person in this mess. Lucien, he may be your friend, and he may be my ex-lover, but you  _ cannot _ betray any Night Court secrets, or myself, to him. Or else you would play a role in the destruction of this land as well, and I know you do not want that. And there’s all the reason to bring you. You’ve been abused by Tamlin, and you also have ties with every court in Prythian. Even the first reason alone would have been enough for me to decide to bring you along.” Lucien smiled in gratitude, and gave me a muttered “Thank you”. A few moments of silence passed before he spoke up again.

“Tarquin informed me a few weeks ago that there’s a blood ruby bounty on you and your mate, as well as another woman from the Night Court. He’ll sense you two on his territory. Why did Rhysand not choose to meet and winnow you from the Autumn Court?” I shook my head.

“I don’t know the way to the Autumn Court, and I can’t winnow that far, either.” A smirk lit up Lucien’s face.

“But I do.”

❋❋❋

Alis was fussing around my room when I returned. In the days that I’ve been back at the Spring Court, I hadn’t managed to make her tell me in what way Tamlin had punished her. She’d instead brushed me off and told me to worry about my own troubles, which in all honesty, were plenty.

“Where were you?” she asked. “It’s nearly two o’clock.”

“Why are you in my room?” I asked back.

“You’re usually screaming or moaning around this time. You weren’t tonight. I came to check on you.”

“Oh,” I said, unsure whether I was supposed to feel warmed and grateful that Alis had came to check if I was abducted, or annoyed that she knew about my nightmares, but didn’t bother to ask about them until now.

“Oh yourself. Where did you go?” she asked again.

“Just went downstairs to grab a midnight snack,” I said flippantly. “I think I’ll head to sleep now.” I needed Alis out of the room to inform Rhys of the change of plans of meeting me at Autumn Court instead. As I headed toward the bed, Alis spoke up again.

“I’m not stupid, Feyre.” I stopped and turned slowly, plastering a confused look on my face.

“I know you’re not stupid, Alis. . . but what do you mean?” She huffed.

“Ever since you’ve been back, you’ve been relatively compliant. You don’t complain about wearing the dresses, and you don’t act miserable in them either. Whenever I see you look at Tamlin, it’s like you’re struggling to suppress a snarl. And Lucien constantly gives you those suspicious looks of his. I’m not very fond of Lucien, but I trust those instincts of his. Obviously, you’re hiding something. So give it up.” Alis glared at me. I gawked. Alis, my friend, my servant, had stripped my disguise here bare in seconds. I was impressed, to say the least.

“Better close that mouth before something unwelcome flies in,” she commented. I closed my mouth.

“Alis—” I began. The faerie held up a hand.

“I don’t want to hear it.” She gave me a hard look. “I don’t want to know what you’re up to, or why you’re  _ really _ here in the Spring Court. But I think what you’re doing will save us. Whether it be Hybern or some other threat. I don’t want to know what you’re planning, but I will help you. Whatever you do, whatever happens. . . I’ll cover for you. Just stop making those Cauldron-awful excuses.” I swallowed.

“Thank—thank you,” I said. And then added, “I’ll keep an eye out for your nephews. In case anything happens.”

“You’ve been looking out for them,” she replied roughly. “Now get in bed and sleep. You’ll need your rest for whatever you’re doing.” I complied. The letter to Rhys could be sent tomorrow.

“Thank you, Alis,” I whispered again. The door creaked open before she responded back.

“The gratitude is all mine, Feyre. Thank  _ you _ for going out of your way to keep saving us.”

❋❋❋

The next morning, I sent Rhys a message informing him of our change in plans to meet at Autumn Court instead of Summer and asking him for updates on Azriel and Cassian.

The cream stationery appeared in my hand a few heartbeats later and it read:

_ Azriel is healing fine despite the damage that was done. Cassian. . . lost his wings, and he went a bit mad, but Nesta was able to calm him down. _

I almost spat out tea I was drinking.

_ What? And you’re only telling me _ now _?  _

By the Cauldron, I wondered how Cassian was holding. And the fact that  _ Nesta _ was the only one who was capable of calming him. . .

The paper fluttered back in my palm. 

_ And what about you, Feyre darling, what happened between you and Lucien? I felt a spark of anger in the bond earlier. Care to tell me what that was about? _

The door creaked open to my room as Lucien crept in, his gaze landing on the pen and paper in my hand.

I sighed as I jotted,  _ I’ll tell you when I see you. I have to go now.  _ I pressed a kiss on the piece of paper and watched it vanish.

Lucien cleared his throat. “I told Tamlin that I have family business at the Autumn Court and that you wanted to come along. He was hesitant, but I convinced him that it was time for you to get out more. He has duties to attend elsewhere that he already left for so don’t worry about getting caught.”

“I’m not.” 

Lucien chuckled. “Then let’s go.”

I picked up the two sets of wings that I’d taken from the gallery earlier.

He took my hand and in an instant, wind and dust engulfed us, and then the smell of pumpkins and cinnamon filled my nose.

My vision cleared to reveal the red and orange hues of the trees. The crisp air clung to me as I took a step towards the vast openness. I could feel the fire burning stronger beneath my skin.

In the past, it’d been hard to control it, but now that I was at its home, I could feel the connection I had with the living flame. I handed the wings carefully to Lucien, lest my hands lit on fire or worse.

Suddenly, a ripple of darkness surrounded us, and an all too familiar figure formed. My mate.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pronunciations: Ariella is pronounced "Ari-ella"; Enfys is pronounced "En-viss"; Vieva is pronounced "Vi-va"
> 
> Also: we have Tumblr accounts now ^O^ my username is SeaSpree (like on here) and my coauthor's is alpestrist. Feel free to chat with us anytime about ACOTAR, ACOMAF, the sequel coming up, or whatever random else XD
> 
> IMPORTANT***: SJM had some Q&S on Twitter, and turns out Calanmai already happened during ACOMAF, around the time when Feyre accepted the mating bond with Rhys in the mountaintop cabin, to be accurate. My friend and I decided that since there weren't too many Calanmai references in here, we'd go back and change a bit. That said, you don't have to go back and reread the past five chapters (for those that do want to, however, only chapter 2, 3, and 5 were edited). For those that don't want to go back and read: just understand that Calanmai did not restore as much magic as it usually did, that Tamlin's magic led him to Ianthe, and that that event led to the two sleeping together later on.

Chapter Six — Feyre

 

Rhysand stood there in his usual attire of dark, elegant clothes. No wings in sight. I hadn’t seen my mate in over a week, and the scent of him was overwhelming. I had the urge to jump on him and have him, right there and then, even if Lucien was standing right next to me, even if we were trespassing in the Autumn Court.

Damn the Cauldron. I leaped into Rhys’s arms and brought my lips to his. He stumbled back a step, but he laughed along my mouth as we kissed before gently setting me down on the leaves that crunched beneath my feet.

“Hello, Feyre darling. I’ve missed you too,” he purred, his voice skittering along my bones. His eyes slid over to Lucien. “And if it isn’t little Lucien. . .” His gaze fell down toward the bundle he held in his arms. “What are you holding?” His voice was quiet, yet laced with a promise of violence should he answer the question wrong.

Lucien shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “Feyre?” 

I looked back. He was still holding on to the two sets of wings. 

_ Right. _

I let go of Rhysand’s hand to turn back around to Lucien. Carefully, I took the wings from his carefully and turned, smiling softly, presenting them to Rhys.

“For you,” I whispered. Rhysand’s eyebrows knit together as he looked at the two sets of wings.

He was gaping as he said, “Are these . . . are these . . . you found them?” I nodded. His breathing became a bit heavier.

“It was Lucien who told me about them, and I couldn’t leave them there.” I passed the wings over to Rhys, who looked at them in awe.

“Feyre,” he rasped. “I can’t ever thank you enough. . .” I smiled again.

“You don’t have to.”

From a few feet away, Lucien not-so-subtlety cleared his throat. Rhysand flashed a look of annoyance over at Lucien before continuing to talk with me.

“We can trust Lucien?” he asked, and I was pretty sure he was scoping out his mind at the same time. 

“We spent some time in the woods and had a long talk.” Rhysand’s gaze slid to Lucien’s again, and I realized that I should’ve phrased it better. No doubt Rhysand’s primal instincts from the mating bond were roaring to be let free. I continued on quickly. “We can trust Lucien. I believe him.” Rhysand frowned.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I didn’t know I’d be bringing Lucien. Nesta will have a fit if I brought him into the same room as Elain.” I laughed quietly.

“I hope Nesta’s fits haven’t bothered you too much, poor little High Lord,” I quipped. He raised an eyebrow at me.

“I bet the High Lady would have been  _ very _ bothered if she’d seen the state that my private mountaintop home had been in.” I snorted. “But if you’re so interested in seeing Nesta have a fit, then we’d better get going.” Rhysand nodded at Lucien.

“If you will,” he said, holding out his right hand. Rhysand was holding the wings in his left arm, so I clutched onto his biceps.

Lucien grunted and reluctantly took Rhys’s hand. Rhys smirked, and we instantly became a swirl of wind and dust.

Voices already filled the room as we landed, and Lucien shook off Rhys’s hand immediately.

“Feyre!” A swiftly moving figure crashed into me, and I laughed, almost losing my balance.

“Mor! Was my absence really that grieving?” Mor hugged me tightly, squeezing the breath out of me, and I had to gently extract myself from her ferocious grip. She was wearing a simple black gown that emphasised her curves in all the right ways. As I expected, Azriel was in the back, watching us, watching  _ Mor _ .

“It's good to have you back, Feyre,” Azriel rumbled from the side of the living 

room. Shadows clung to him and I smiled at the familiar sight.

I’ve been gone far too long.

“Pull a stunt like that again, and I won’t lend you my jewelry another time,” Amren said, walking into the living room. She pulled me in for a hug. “I might have not been there, but don't make any more decisions that will leave your friends worrying everyday. Rhys was a handful to deal with.”

“I’m sure he was.”  I said, laughing. “And don’t worry. I’ll make sure there won’t be a next time,” This—this was what I was fighting for. It was so nice being back within my Inner Circle, laughing with my friends.

Lucien stood there, slightly in awe,  observing all the smiles and hugs.

“And now you're our High Lady.” Mor clasped a fist to her heart, and the others 

followed suit before they all bowed. I groaned jokingly.

The first time they’d done it was because I had recently mated with Rhys which meant that I was now a part of their family.

But now that I was the High Lady of their court, it meant that I was to watch over them, and that they would watch over me as well. We were an army, a force forged by love, and we had each other’s backs. Our loyalty to each other was unquestionable. An unbreakable squad.

“You’re my friends, there's no need to bow every time you see me.” Mor 

laughed as she put her hands and my shoulders and hustled me towards the dining room.

“Whatever you say, High Lady.” I entered the dining room, and lying in bed 

that was floating a few inches off the ground, no doubt Rhys’ magic, was Cassian. Wingless. His back looked so empty and strange without the wings hanging over them.

“Cassian,” I breathed. “Your wings. . .” I stalked closer to him. Guilt washed over me. “My blood. . . I could’ve helped you.” Cassian shook his head, as if to say,  _ Not your fault _ .

“Feyre.” He managed a smile, although there seemed to be something tight in 

his face, as though he was still in pain. “I'd bow to you as well, just to aggravate you, but I can't get up, so I guess the best I'll do is salute you.” I started to protest, saying that he shouldn't stretch his wounds any more than he had to, but he ignored me as he put a hand to the side of his forehead. “You might not have been able to get your blood to me, but you saved my life. Mine, my brothers, and everyone else’s. For that, my gratitude is endless.” And that warm feeling of being welcomed and loved filled me to the core.

Rhysand stuck his head through the doorway; he was still holding the wings of 

his mother and sister. “Feyre, you should stay with Lucien. Mor’s pestering him right now. I'm going to—” he swallowed hard and glanced down toward the wings before looking at me again. “And then I'll go get your sisters from my mountaintop home.”

“Do whatever you need to do,” I said, kissing him gently on the mouth. “Just 

make sure you come back to me.” Rhysand quirked an eyebrow.

“Possessive, aren't you?” He whispered in that voice that made shivers run up 

my arms and excitement pound my veins as he leaned closer, his scent wrapping around me and filling me.

“Don't pretend,” I whispered back. “You're the same, if not worse.” I forced 

myself to back away from that addicting smell of  _ him _ , so different from the wrongness of Tamlin’s, and so right. I gave Rhys a small push. “Now go. Don't keep your mother and sister waiting,” I said, smiling down sadly at the wings he held so carefully in his arms. 

Rhysand started walked away, but stopped his steps and turned around, as if he’d suddenly changed his mind about something. “Come with me. You should meet them.”

He reached a hand towards me, and I took it, albeit hesitantly. “Are you sure? I thought you’d want your time with them alone.”

Rhys shook his head. “I want to introduce them to my mate.”

I smiled, but then remembered about the Spring Court emissary I’d brought here. I turned to Lucien. “Will you be alright?”

Lucien opened his mouth, but Mor appeared by his side, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Oh, he’ll be alright. Don’t worry, Feyre, we’ll take care of him.”

And with that, we winnowed out of the room, leaving Lucien behind.

❋❋❋

Rhys and I were silent as we approached two gravestones, hand in hand.

We winnowed on top a mountain that Rhys told me was near his mother’s old camp. No one was allowed here except for Rhys and anyone he allowed to enter. Grass sprouted everywhere beneath our feet, and the subtle sounds of nature filled our silence. The air was crisp and clean, the small breeze cooling my skin.

I tightened my grip on Rhys’s hand as he paused before the blocks of stone.

“When was the last you visited them?” He had been taken from his court for fifty years. . .

“The night I returned. After reuniting with my Inner Circle and checking in on Velaris and establishing order again. At the end of the day, I flew here, and I just spoke the whole story—Amarantha, Under the Mountain, and you—aloud.”

Fifty years. For fifty years, he was stuck under Amarantha’s control. He couldn’t see his friends nor his family. I wondered what their reunion was like. “That’s sweet,” I said quietly.

He smiled in response and snapped his fingers. A small altar appeared in front of the gravestones. Offerings of food were set on it along with a few candles. 

“Veneration of the dead,” Rhys said. “There’s a holiday in Prythian called Samhuin. It marks the end of summer and the beginning of the ‘darker half’ of the year. But it’s also the day when spirits are able to roam the world more easily, and families pay their respects for their loved ones. Offerings like this”—he gestured to the altar—“are created.”

“In the mortal lands, the wealthy do something similar for the dead. My family did it for my mother.”

Rhys set the wings down on each grave. He took a step back and waved a hand, and the wings began to hover in the air.

“How old was your sister?” Her pair of wings were so small compared to their mother. Rhys mentioned her love for the Rainbow of Velaris. That their father had to drag her, kicking and screaming. She must’ve been so young.

“I was a little over two and a half centuries old when she was born. Her name is Enfys, but we called her Eny. She was a late child because although my parents were mates, they were not very smitten with each other. It might've been because the mating bond had been so quickly accepted.”

“My mother, her name is Ariella. She was. . . the light of the Night Court. 

Despite the fact that she was Illyrian, and not even close to a noble until she married my father, she was admired throughout by my father’s court. While my mother loved Velaris, and the beauty of the Night Court, which she never got to appreciate until she was freed from her family and culture, she hated my father after a time.” Rhysand had told me this before. An Illyrian who fell in a love with the man who freed her from the injustice of her home. And yet they were wrong for each other. “But my father always loved her. Like others, he admired her beauty, and her fighting spirit. I think. . . I think if women Illyrians had been allowed to train then, she could've single-handedly beaten the Spring Court, that day when they went to slaughter her and Enfys.” Rhysand shook his head slightly, in sadness, and I took one of his hands with my own to comfort. “She was so powerful. If she'd been trained. . . I'm sure she would've needed at least two or three Siphons.” Rhys tilted his head and smiled at me, as if shaking off the bad memories and all the  _ what-ifs _ he’d spent much of his immortality thinking about. “Come on, let's introduce you.”

“Do you think they can hear us?” I asked as he led me forward.

“Of course,” he said confidently. Rhys sat down in front of the altar, and I sat 

down next to him, still holding onto his hand. We stayed silent, in respect, for a few minutes before Rhysand spoke up.

“Hey, Mother,” he said quietly. “Hybern’s bringing war to the Night Court. This might be the last time I get to talk to you, if things go seriously wrong.” And I realized that with the huge threat of the Cauldron looming over us, Rhysand wasn't sure if he would come out of this war. I tightened my grip on his hand. “But I wanted you to at least get to meet Feyre. She's the one I told you about that saved Prythian from Amarantha. She got your ring back from the Weaver. And she brought back your wings, and Enfys’. I didn't tell you last time, even though I already knew. I didn't want to be disappointed if she rejected the bond, but. . . she’s also my mate.” I smiled at that last word.

“Hi,” I whispered. “I'm sorry I never got to meet you; you seem like a wonderful 

person to get to know. Thank you for your son. He. . .I may have saved Prythian. . .but I wouldn’t have been able to without the help of Rhysand. I promise to try and keep him out of trouble as much as possible.” I smiled at that last sentence. A breeze picked up, and shadows seemingly danced around. The wings spun a bit more. I gasped quietly. A light of wonder entered Rhys’ eyes.

“I think—I think she approves of you.”

❋❋❋

Nesta and Elain were in the middle of tea when we landed. Rhysand had decided to fly me to his mountaintop home instead of winnowing, to show me the beauty of the Night Court’s mountain ranges in the afternoon glow. They both stopped talking when they saw me, or maybe  _ sensed _ me now that they were Fae. Something that I would always feel guilty about. The reason why I would destroy Ianthe, who I once foolishly considered a friend. I had had no idea what true friendship was. Not until I met the Inner Circle.

“Feyre,” Elain breathed. “You're—you’re back.” They were both standing up now, their tea forgotten. Their eyes immediately went to the new tattoo now visible on my right arm. “Rhysand told us you’re the High Lady of the Night Court.”

Nesta brought her gaze up to mine. “Nice to see you again, Feyre.”

It was Rhys who responded, “Your sister was in the hands of a possessive asshole for more than a week and that’s it?”

We weren’t that type of family. Elain looked away while Nesta glared at him.

I put a hand on his shoulder, gripping it lightly. “He means that I was fine at the Spring Court and I’m glad to see that you’re okay too. I’m only here until the night.”

Elain cleared her throat. “If you don’t mind, Rhysand, may we talk to Feyre alone?”

Rhys looked at me, and I nodded. “Very well, then. Send something down the bond when you’re done.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked as he was already walking towards the open balcony.

“Fly,” he said vaguely. And so he did.

“Oh, Feyre.” Elain waved her hands frantically at one of the open seats, gesturing for me to sit down. Cautiously, I sat down, examining my sisters. They seemed no worse for wear, rather, better. Their beauty had been enhanced, and everything else as well, no doubt, but. . . there seemed to be a chronic sadness about the air.

“Are you—are you two alright?” I asked. Nesta flicked her gaze away quickly, but I could tell she blamed their current predicament on me. Elain wrung her hands together, seemingly desperate to make this right.

“Rhysand, your. . . mate. . . has been exceedingly kind.” I nodded, encouraging her to continue talking. Elain’s eyes darted left and right, to mine, and then to the floor. “He taught you to read and write,” she whispered. My mind whirled.  _ That _ was an unexpected statement.

“Yeah, he did. What about it?” It was hard to focus on Elain’s darting eyes, or the rigid posture of Nesta, so I shifted my sight to the wringing of Elain’s hands.

“Nesta and I. . .we’ve been talking. And I just. . . just want to get it out there, Feyre, so hear me out.” I nodded, confused. What was she getting at? Elain took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Feyre, for all those years in the cottage. I know I was a burden and I. . . it’s just. . . I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

“I—” Nesta cut me off.

“Thank you,” she said hoarsely, “for looking after us. All that time. . . I wanted Father to step up and save us, but he didn’t. And I couldn’t get past my pride to help you instead of pushing against Father all the time.” Damn the Cauldron. Now I was truly speechless. Thankfully, Elain saved me.

“Feyre. . . I also have a question about that High Fae. . .at Hybern. . .” she trailed off, but I jumped at the opportunity to talk about something other than our past.

“Lucien?”

“Lucien. . .” Elain whispered. “He said that we were mates. And you and Rhysand are, or  _ were _ , mates. So does that mean—” Nesta’s head whirled around so fast that I felt a slight breeze hit my face.

“He’s not  _ your _ anything,” she snapped. “And Elain, you’re not  _ his _ anything.” I cast Nesta a suspicious look. It sounded as if she was talking to herself, and attempting to convince herself of something.

“Rhys and I are still mates.” I wondered why no one had thought to inform them. “That bastard of a king broke our bargain bond, not the mating bond. The mating bond is an extremely rare bond between two people. Your mate is your equal. Your match in every single way.”

I realized that I never told my sisters the story of Rhys and I, how everything came to be. And perhaps telling them my history, of how I was broken and shattered and changed and then put back together. . .perhaps that would help them assimilate to being High Fae.

So I began to tell them the beginning of our story: the story of me and Rhys and how we came to be. I told them of Rhys’ dreams of me. I told them how I painted the night sky on my drawer because it was  _ Rhys _ who sent the image to me through our thoughts. I told the tale of us, that when I fell down, it was Rhys who helped me back up, and put the shattered shards of my heart and my hope back together. 

Eventually, Elain asked, “You were a human at the time though. So it’s possible for a Fae to be mated with a mortal?”

“Yes. . . actually, I’m not sure. It’s the Cauldron who decides.” No one _confirmed_  that it was possible, and Rhys didn’t say it was out of the ordinary.

I looked at Elain. “You can feel him, can’t you? The  _ feeling  _ of him. The bond is a living line that attaches the two of you. Can’t you sense him? I brought him with me. He’s currently at the town house.”

Nesta seethed. “You mean to tell me that red haired pinprick is  _ here _ , in the Night Court? Isn’t he the one who ignored your cries when the High Lord of Spring treated you badly?”

Today was a good day, and I didn’t need Nesta to ruin it. “He can be trusted.” I shifted topics. “How’s Cassian been?” I asked her. She noticeably stiffened. “I would be surprised if you haven’t gone to see him yet.” I stayed silent for another few moments, and then asked, “Are you two mates?” Nesta went ramrod straight.

“Whatever is between me and Cassian is my business, High Lady, and none of yours,” she said coldly. The formality stung, like a slap to the face. I was pushing my sisters too much, especially when they had just been Made and were struggling to deal with the changes. . . and just when they had apologized to me. . .

“I’m sorry,” I said, understanding that it was my turn to apologize. “Let’s just start over.” Nesta looked away again, but Elain nodded eagerly.

“Did. . . did that High Lord hurt you?” Elain asked. I shook my head, smiling slightly. A few months ago, I would've cowered if Tamlin unleashed his fury at me. But now, if Tamlin tried to hurt me, I'd bring down his manor block by block, with my mate beside me.

I looked out to the open space to find Rhys coming down from the clouds. “Come on. We need to go. Lucien’s pissing off Cassian, and I do  _ not _ need my townhouse ruined, again, by his unruliness.”

❋❋❋

Loud, boisterous laughs echoed into the hallway as we strolled through, Nesta and Elain following quietly behind us.

“Please, Lucien, I was battling at the front lines before you were even  _ born _ .” Cassian’s voice was boastful with pride.

A scoff. “Actually, that just proves that you’re an old—” Lucien stopped speaking as I walked into the room with Rhys by side. As Nesta followed. As Elain appeared.

Everyone was there, lounging in the living room. Mor and Azriel sat on one cough. Amren and Lucien on the other. Cassian was on his floating bed between the two couches.

“These two halfwits were arguing who the better warrior is.” Mor explained. “I’m waiting for Amren to join in the conversation.”

“I don’t remember Lucien being a good fighter, but I wonder how fifty years has changed him.” Rhys smirked at him. “And Amren doesn’t need to be a part of their discussion.”

Lucien merely glared at him while Amren shrugged. “They’re fools if they think they can beat me.”

This brought a smirk from Cassian. “Shall we take it out on the rooftop?”

I watched the two stared each other down as Amren smiled wickedly.

“Why don’t we go eat and start discussing?” I suggested before Cassian would regret the challenge, especially with that back, looking so desolated without wings.

“Sounds good. I was becoming hungry anyway, watching the two of them quarrel.” Mor jutted her chin out toward Lucien and Cassian as she got to her feet.

Azriel quietly stood up and trailed her. And then everyone else followed along.

As I followed my court, I noticed Lucien hanging behind, noticeably staring after Elain. I waved for Rhysand to go on, and went over to Lucien’s side.

“So?” I asked. He flinched. Actually  _ flinched _ .

“Sorry,” he rasped. “It's just. . .” He waved his hand toward Elain, who was smiling and walking with Nesta toward the dining room. “She's beautiful,” he sighed.

I wasn’t sure if I should be playing the role of a supportive friend or a protective sister. Perhaps I should be explaining what Elain is like, and what exactly, she came from.

“Try to be her friend for now. Don’t make any sudden moves. She was. . . she was betrothed to a man already, in the mortal realm. I can’t be sure, but I think Elain loved him.” I grabbed one of his hands and gave it a tight squeeze. “Give her some time.” He nodded, sorrow entering his russet eye, and I was sure he was recounting the centuries of grief from his previous lover. I smiled at him, and then whispered, “Her favorite flowers are daisies and tulips.” I gave him another squeeze before leaving him behind for the dining room.

The others were already sitting down at the table. Rhys sat at the opposite head of table, and gestured for me to do the same at the head seat on my end. It hurt to be so physically separated from my mate, but I knew that as High Lady, it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to sit to the right of Rhysand. While Amren sat in that seat, I waved Lucien over to sit to the right of me. Nesta sat at my left, no doubt to glare at Lucien with ease throughout the meal. Next to her was Elain. On Lucien’s right side, Mor chirpily sat down next to him. Cassian’s floating bed went next to her, followed by Azriel. Seeing that everyone had sat down, Rhys waved his hand, and piles of food appeared on the table. Everyone dug in. . . except for Cassian.

“Someone feed me,” Cassian whined. “I can’t eat like this.”

“You could do to lose some weight,” Mor chortled, waving a piece of lamb brisket above his mouth, just beyond his reach. I laughed, and then noticed Nesta quickly turning her head away, a flash of white following her. Had Nesta been  _ snarling _ ? I glanced at her and then to Cassian, who was now being fed by a grumbling Azriel, and back to her again. What I’d said earlier about the two being mates was a joke, something I blurted out just to infuriate her. But perhaps. . . perhaps they really  _ were _ mates, based upon how territorial Nesta was acting, just toward that little teasing act by Mor. And if they were mates. . . it was none of my business, like Nesta had said.

I gorged myself on the delicious food. While any delicacies prepared by the Fae were good, the traditional dishes in the Spring Court simply did not compare to the extravagant ones that were served in the Night Court. I felt like I had been depriving myself of food the past week as I bit into the braised lamb briskets and nearly moaned aloud at the taste.

Rhysand noticed though, and he quirked an eyebrow at me from across the table.  _ I love watching you eat. You’re so cute when you’re stuffing your face full of food. _ My own eyebrows rocketed skywards in surprise. Rhysand hadn’t talked to me through our minds since several days ago, as it took a lot of concentration and focus to send even a single thought through the mating bond. Rhys read the confusion and surprise in my mind, and sent another thought shooting to me.

_ I suspect that the mating bond is sort of like a line that can be. . . stretched. The farther apart we are, the longer and thinner it is, so the passageway for thoughts is more. . . compressed. But now that we’re much closer, it’s much easier to send thoughts along to you, darling. _ And then Rhys had the nerve to wink. I could feel a blush coloring my cheeks. Thank the Cauldron the others were too busy eating or bantering to notice that their High Lord and Lady were having a private conversation that was quickly accelerating toward something else.

_ Mind your thoughts and let me eat. _ And then to prove my point, I shoved an entire piece of lamb into my mouth and nearly choked on it. A warm, lover’s chuckle made its way through our mating bond. I focused all my energy into chewing the lamb; if I looked at Rhys now, I was sure the delicate balance I’d built in not fucking him right here and now in the dining room would shatter.

Honestly, it was a relief when the meal finally ended, despite the delicious food.

Rhysand straightened and clapped his hands together. All the plates vanished into thin air. “Now that we’re done eating, let’s start talking about more. . . distressing topics.” he said. “First of all, Cassian will not be participating in our missions for a while, not until he is completely healed.”

Cassian snarled. “Rhys, I’m  _ fine _ . Don’t make me feel useless.” 

Rhys’s eyes twinkled at the bite of Cassian’s words. “I’m not gonna take chances with you, especially as war is about to happen,” he said. “And you’re not going to be useless. You’ll be training with Nesta and Elain.” 

Cassian smirked. The job clearly made him happy.

“Excuse me?” Nesta interjected. “We don’t need training. Especially not from  _ him _ .” She cast an icy glare at Cassian who merely held it until she looked away.

“Rhysand’s right. You and Elain were Made by the Cauldron. We don’t know what else happened in the process. It’ll be good for you two anyway. You’ll have a way to defend yourselves.” I said. “Plus, it’ll be good practice for Cassian.” I didn’t add the other words. Cassian would have to train to get used to fighting without wings to balance himself.

Nesta opened her mouth, but Elain put a hand on her elbow. A hint to tell her to stop. “It’ll be for our benefit. Plus, what if you’re not there to protect me? I have to be able to save myself, Nesta.” Nesta prepared to retort, but I decided to interrupt her, to ___.

“Do you feel anything inside your bones? A spark of fire or claws?” I asked, thinking of all the powers that I now possessed. They both said no. “Maybe it’ll show later. The powers I have first appeared whenever I was mad or else showed strong emotions.”

“I don’t think Nesta has any powers then,” Cassian spoke up. “Since she’s always showing strong emotions.” He winked at her.

“Try me.” Nesta’s voice was lethal.

“Take it to the training area you two.” Rhys said. “Azriel, what are the latest updates?” Azriel had an amused smile on his face, but that smile faded away as he turned to his High Lord.

“Other courts have heard about Tamlin’s alliance with Hybern. Only Summer is for certain preparing for war. Dawn Court is trying to remain neutral, as well as Day. I believe that Helion Spell-Cleaver is still trying to bring stability back to his lands. Unfortunately, the High Priestesses have their claws deep in Dawn, Day, and Winter. They could very well become allies with Hybern. And the Autumn Court is. . . difficult.” Out of my peripheral view, I saw Lucien tighten his jaw at the mention of his home court. “The Lady of the Autumn Court, Lady Vieva, is urging Beron to take arms against Hybern, but the High Lord may be considering to ally with the King instead.”

A huff from Lucien. “Then he is as much a fool as Tamlin,” he snapped. I couldn’t agree more. “As soon as Hybern finishes ravaging Prythian and the human lands, he’ll get rid of all the High Lords, including any that helps him, and crown himself High King of the world.” Rhysand nodded thoughtfully.

“Then obviously we’ll need to proceed with allying ourselves with Summer,” he said, violet eyes flashing toward me. I tilted my head to the side.

“We have a death sentence from Summer. And we plan to ally with them?” Rhys smiled.

“Amren has been in correspondence with Varian, who has told her that Tarquin was desperate for that alliance. Perhaps he had seen the threat of Hybern beforehand as well. In a few days, you, me, and Amren are taking another trip to the beautiful Adriata, to infiltrate dear Tarquin’s bedchambers.” My eyebrows rose.

“And if he’s making love to someone?” Amren, Mor, and Cassian laughed, and even Azriel had a smile playing on his lips. Meanwhile, both Nesta and Elain wrinkled their nose and fanned their face. 

“I’m sure that won’t be a bother to us. After all, my lovemaking skills, which you know by first-hand experience, far exceed those of his, Feyre-dear.” Rhysand’s eyes danced with amusement. By the Cauldron. A fire was simmering through my veins, the type that filled me with  _ want _ , for  _ him _ , the High Lord that sat across from me, a distance that seemed too far. My hands gripped the dining table cloth tightly, but I forced myself to stay still, and gave my mate a coy smile.

“Well, I couldn’t compare. Perhaps we’ll go to Adriata and I’ll allow Tarquin to bed  _ me _ instead of whoever caught his fancy and is tangled in his sheets.” By now, Elain looked vaguely ill, and Lucien was casting alarming looks at her whilst at the same time glaring at me to stop the vulgar conversation. Rhysand laughed lowly, a slow sound that only simmered the fire in my blood.

“You do that, Feyre. I’m sure Tarquin will be beyond excited to fuck you.” Amazing, truly. My mate was keeping that primal instinct of shredding apart other males under admirable control. Amren cleared her throat.

“As humorous as this conversation between the two of you is, we’re going to have to ask you to take that to the bedroom. As for why we plan to infiltrate Summer, we need to inform Tarquin what has happened, and we need to ally with him. While both the Night Court and Summer Court will fight, without an alliance, we have no chance of defeating Hybern.”

I’d heard every word Amren had said, but I kept my gaze on Rhysand as I said, “When do we leave for Adriata?”


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven — Feyre

 

Tamlin barely asked about what happened during our journey.

“How was it?” he asked, when Lucien and I came walking back into the manor late at night. He had sensed our arrival and was waiting for us at the table.

I told him that it was a nice contrast to the Spring Court. How the Autumn Court was lovely even though I’d barely seen it. I even made up a story about talking to the Lady of Autumn.

No one knows about the kind gesture she made to me back Under the Mountain—finishing the first impossible chore Amarantha had assigned me in return for giving my name for her son’s life. One day, I’d like to get to really know her.

When I finished telling the tale, Tamlin merely nodded and kissed my brow before heading back to his quarters.

Lucien watched him go up the stairs before turning to me. “You had reason to leave, but I didn’t understand why you chose the Night Court at the time. Now I do.” I didn’t say anything as he returned to his rooms.

The next morning, I awoke to shouting and banging downstairs.

I was halfway down the steps when a blast of magic shot through the walls of the manor. The tremor was so terrible that I lost my balance and rolled down the remaining stairs.

“Feyre!”

I groaned. Despite being immortal, I was, unfortunately, not immune to pain.

Lucien was by my side in the next second, but my attention was fully on the table at the center of the dining room.

Tamlin stood from his chair, breathing heavily. His claws were out. He noticed me and finally realized what he had done, and was coming towards me.

But my attention was on the female guest with golden hair. And the slightly bigger stomach from when I had last seen her.

It was a fight with my instincts to keep myself from pouncing on her. Not because of jealousy—although maybe it kind of was in some twisted way. But no, she was the one who was working with Hybern from the start. Who had come to the Spring Court to gather information and sold out my sisters to the King. Who made Tamlin more of a beast and threatened Lucien only to bed him. Who acted like my friend to only backstab me in the end.

I was starting to get ready to claw her face out, but Tamlin put a hand on my arm, his claws scraping against my skin. “I lost control. I’m sorry.” I wondered how many times he’d apologized, wondered how many times it would happen again. I was sick of it—sick of _him_. I rose to my feet, away from his touch. Tamlin and ucien stood from their crouches as well.

Ianthe sat still in her seat with her head lowered. She wore the same layered robes that she always wore, although they were now larger to accommodate the child inside her—Tamlin’s child too—and the matching circlet that went with it. But today, her panel was down, and it was still unsettling as I’d first thought of it. Her lips were curled in a tight smile.

She hadn’t moved an inch, and I realized that Tamlin had invisible bonds on Ianthe—the same ones he’d placed on me when I was brought here. Surely, they were stronger though because her arms looked like they were about to break.

“What is she doing here?” I asked, trying to keep the bite in my voice calm.

It was Lucien who explained, “She winnowed here just a few minutes before you came falling down the stairs.”

“She just. . . winnowed here? That’s it? Did she come here from Hybern? Or maybe she came back from Vallahan?” Vallahan was one of the faeries territories across the ocean, and she and her family fled there just before Amarantha took over. And for fifty years, her family resided there only returning when the news of Amarantha’s death was out.

Maybe she had an army there ready to be called considering her father was a captain in Tamlin’s forces. And she’s here now to check on the Spring Court’s status.

“Yes, and that’s what I’m trying to find out,” Tamlin growled. “I’ve been trying to get answers from her since, but she refuses to speak.”

“And she’s also pregnant if I’m seeing correctly?” My voice and face was filled with pure innocence as Lucien glanced pointedly at me. As Ianthe’s smile grew a bit wider. _Bitch_.

Tamlin didn’t know I knew that he’d impregnated Ianthe, so I would play along. See how far the lies would go.

“Yes . . . She is.”

I felt Lucien’s eyes bore into my soul with the glare he was giving me. A warning. A warning for what though? I would’ve found out sooner or later without him telling me. I might as well have fun with it.

Ianthe giggled, and we all whipped our heads in her direction. “Come on, Tamlin, I thought we were close friends. You haven’t told your bride yet?” Cauldron, the ruthless _arrogance_ in her voice. Oh, I was surely going to shred her to pieces.

The feral snarl that Tamlin gave in response sent chills to my bones. “ _Shut. Your. Mouth._ ” I felt Lucien stiffen behind me.

She folded back the panel on her head, and her teal eyes were now visible. Scanning me. I stared her down, tempted to send fireballs down her direction. She gave me a half smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you _want_ me to speak.”

Tamlin snarled again. “I want you to give me answers, not any of your made up tales.” The invisible bonds on her tightened. “Lie and you will face my wrath. Who sent you?”

“No one sent me. I came here to see how you were all faring now that dear Feyre was back. Shouldn’t you be welcoming me? I heard that you were looking for me once you retrieved Feyre.”

There was no sign of guilt in her for what she’d done. “Why’d you sell my sisters to the King of Hybern?” My voice became lethally calm. A voice I’d picked up from my mate.

“What I did was necessary for you to be brought back. I was merely following orders when Tamlin told me to do _anything_ to get his stolen bride back.” Ianthe said sweetly.

Tamlin spoke up for me, growling. “That didn’t mean harming her family.”

“Did I harm them though? Is it so bad that they’re High Fae now? Feyre, what were you going to do when the rest of your family withered away while you stayed youthful and immortal?”

It was a question I had asked myself before. I had planned to give them a safe life, protecting them for as long as I could. Then I’d live the rest of my immortal life with Rhys in the Night Court.

I didn’t need to tell Ianthe that.

“Tell us the real reason why you’re here, Ianthe.” Lucien said roughly by my side. He was staring at her, assessing what dangers she brought.

“Weren’t you listening?” she scoffed. “I came here because I was worried about you all, especially poor Feyre.” She looked at me, pouting her lower lip a bit. “How was the Night Court?”

I reminded myself I had a role to play and took a deep breath. “Despite all the hate many seem to have towards it, I was treated well there. I wasn’t physically harmed, but as you know, Rhysand had a hold of my mind. But even so, I was allowed  to roam around once in awhile. I’m sure you’ve seen them, but their nights are exquisite.” Ianthe lifted a brow. “Rhysand once mentioned that you’ve been to the Night Court yourself.”

At that, Ianthe paled a bit, and I knew she was scared of Rhysand. Who wouldn’t be if they didn’t know about the other side of him that he usually kept to himself? But she had different reasons to be scared of the High Lord of the Night Court. The same reason she disappeared when Rhys crashed the wedding.

Ianthe held my stare. “Yes. . . as a High Priestess, it’s my duty to travel among the different courts for important business.”

So seducing High Lords were considered _important_ and _business._

Lucien must’ve been thinking the same thing because he stifled a cough.

“Okay, enough chit chat, there’s questions that need to be answered.” Tamlin said, his face hard. Ianthe smiled at him. “Where were you this whole time?”

“Back in Vallahan.”

“Why?”

“There was an issue I had to take care of back there.”

“What was the issue? Your family is back here, correct? What connections do you have there?” His eyes grew wider and the bonds tightened by a fraction. Ianthe didn’t seem to care though as she straightened.

“I’ve been there for half a century, of course I have relations to the faeries over there. And yes, my family is here—they’re residing at our old home. I went back because a friend had need of me.” She was enjoying this interrogation.

“That doesn’t answer the question.” Lucien said, his metal eye whirring. “What was the issue? And who was this friend of yours?”

“There was an issue with her family and she wanted my help.” Ianthe snapped. “A friend you don’t know about and don’t _need_ to know about.”

I decided to invade her mind right then, but when I flung my silent, hidden power at Ianthe—only to be met with a barricade of tough iron. So she’d been trained against a daemati’s power. Like Amarantha.

But it was possible to get in. I could sense that her shield wasn’t as thick or strong as Rhys’. I could get in. . . if I concentrated on making an opening.

I’d already began carving my way through, and Lucien looked like he was about to say more, but Tamlin interrupted. “So you left right after you caused this mess to help a friend for almost a month? How can I trust you when you’ve been working with the King of Hybern behind my back this whole time? Was everything you’ve done all part of a plan?”

“Tamlin, I’ve been your friend for centuries.” Slowly, so slowly I was working to tunnel through her shields. “Yes, I was working with Hybern, but I’ve been helping you in the process as well, don’t you agree?”

Tamlin pondered a bit, thinking about the meaning of her actions. “Do you plan to continue residing at the Spring Court? How do I know you’re not spying on for the King of Hybern?”

Ianthe smirked. “If you still don’t have my trust, Tamlin, why don’t you ask your bride to look through my mind? I’m sure she picked up some of the powers from the High Lord of the Night Court.”

I snapped my attention fully on her. The smile she gave me was cunning and sly. A bobcat getting reading to pounce. But I was a wolf. A wolf who could wield fire, water, darkness, and more. I had the upper hand.

“What do you mean?” I asked, my face blank. If she knew. . . What else did she have knowledge about? And how did she have that knowledge?

“One would suspect a child of all seven courts would have the daemati power.” By the look in her eyes, I didn’t think it was by mere suspicion that she knew. “Here, let me lower my shields so that it’d be easier for you to get in.”

She was allowing me to enter now, but I knew I shouldn’t.

_Rule one: don’t go into someone’s mind unless you hold the way open._

I was still new at this mind reading business. There was still a lot I needed to learn. I didn’t want to risk being trapped in Ianthe’s mind—become her slave. No, I wouldn’t. High Priestesses were powerful too. I didn’t know what powers Ianthe was capable of.

“I—I can’t.” I forced myself to stammer. Lucien glanced at me, his face full of worry. Ianthe sat there simpering, as if she knew something that I didn’t.

“Don’t make her do such things.” Tamlin said. I wondered what that was supposed to mean. “I believe you.”

“Wait, Tam,” Lucien said, earning a cutting glare from his High Lord. “We don’t know anything for sure. Don’t you think she’s up to something?”

“If she truly is, then I’ll kill her on the spot. End of story.”

Lucien turned back to Ianthe—and was met with a blast of bright shining light. He was thrown against the wall, grunting in pain.

I gasped, turning to find Ianthe, no longer bound by the invisible bonds. Instead, she was standing, getting ready to hurl another ball of her power—at me.

I ran to the left, dodging the blast of light.

“Stop this, Ianthe.” Tamlin snarled. He shifted to his beast form and launched himself towards her—to only claw air. She disappeared. She had winnowed out.

Tamlin stumbled, and I ran toward Lucien’s side. There was blood running down the side of his head. The plaster on the wall was cracked, a much deeper dent than the one in Tamlin’s study, when I had shoved him against the wall.

“Stop right there.” That voice. I froze, still holding onto Lucien, and slowly turned around. Ianthe was back and the person who had spoken. . . I couldn't stop the scowl that jumped to my face. The King of Hybern and. . . Jurian. With that nasty smirk in place.

By the Cauldron.

“What are you doing here?” Tamlin demanded as he subtly moved in front of me.

“Upholding our bargain, Tamlin.” The King of Hybern waved his hand, gesturing for Tamlin to move. “Step aside, little High Lord.” Tamlin snarled.

“What do you want with her?”

“Why, she's going to help me with my plans. Move aside, Tamlin,” he repeated again. Tamlin glowered before reluctantly moving away.

The King of Hybern studied me. “Ah. . . Feyre Cursebreaker. How has your week back been?”

“Fine,” I snapped. “Until you appeared.”

“Always a pleasure, dear. Now.” He walked closer, and I instinctively backed up against the wall. Lucien got up too. His blood was dripping onto the ground. _Tluck tluck tluck_. . .

“Go away to whatever hell hole you crawled from,” Lucien growled. The King of Hybern laughed, a loud booming laugh that echoed around the seemingly empty manor. I wondered if the servants were all hiding somewhere.

The king flicked a finger, and some invisible force slammed into Lucien, sending him flying to the other side of the room and slamming into the wall there. He didn't get up. I winced. Two hard hits to the wall couldn't be healthy for anyone, High Fae or no. I was desperate to reach for the powers hiding inside me, but I had an act to keep up. I would play this out, see what kind of help exactly the king wanted from me.

“Feyre Cursebreaker,” the king murmured again, walking ever closer. From nearby, I heard Tamlin growl in warning. The king paid him no mind. “Child of all seven courts.” He smiled wickedly before suddenly turning away.

The king snapped his fingers at Tamlin. “I want three of your troops stationed at the border of the Night Court, near the sea, by daybreak tomorrow. I’ll show you the exact point on the map. Some of my troops will be there as well. We’re targeting Velaris again, to test their defenses. It’s also to send a message that we want the Book back.” My heart stopped.

“Velaris?” I asked, voice slightly trembling. Tamlin mistook the tremor in my voice.

“The bastard Rhysand has been keeping an entire city secret. The king’s deduced that that’s the weakest point in the Night Court, due to all the civilians. It’ll be the easiest to invade the Night Court there, rather than through the mountain ranges at the Day Court.” I nodded, but I was shaking on the inside. Shaking with fury. Those bastard _queens_. They’d sold out the City of Starlight, a place of peace, for immortality, and now. . . now Hybern and even Tamlin. . . they were going to destroy it.

“And send two of your troops to scatter around Summer Court, at Adriata. There’s rumours going on that they’re readying forces. I want them to know that it is useless to fight against me.” Tamlin nodded.

“Of course.” _Bastard._ I was going to rip Tamlin to shreds.

“And Feyre. . .” The king studied me while Jurian sneered. “We break down the wall next week. Until then, I want her training with Jurian.” Tamlin exploded.

“Absolutely not,” he snarled. He’d shifted into that beast form and now he prowled toward the king. The King of Hybern only frowned before flicking his finger again, and this time, a gilded cage appeared around Tamlin, trapping him. Tamlin roared. There were flashes of light but. . . I realized that the cage must be made of those magic-stifling stones. Tamlin could not shift or get out of the cage.

“As I was saying,” the king continued, as if he didn't hear Tamlin roaring from within the cage. “Your training will commence tomorrow morning, with Jurian.” His eyes flashed. “I saw the power you displayed at my castle. Jurian, here, is going to test your abilities in the next few days. We’ll definitely need all seven courts’ magic to bring down that Cauldron-damned wall.”

He grinned at me. “And I'm sure we can fit your revenge on the High Lord of the Night Court somewhere.” The room was silent except for Tamlin’s continuous roars before I realized that the king was waiting for me to respond.

I pointed at Ianthe. “Only if you make her get out of this court.” The King of Hybern sneered, as did Ianthe.

“You are not in any position to make demands,” the King hissed. I leaned back against the wall and tried to relax, to be unfazed by the dangerous, looming king in front of me.

“Ianthe sold out my sisters to you.” I lifted my chin as I looked the King of Hybern in the eyes. “And obviously Ianthe and the other High Priestesses are very useful to you in getting allegiance from the other courts. Should you lose that allegiance. . .” I cocked my head to the side, challenging him.

“You wouldn't dare,” he said, glaring intently into my eyes. I tried to feign nonchalance as I started to pick at my nails.

“If you don't get her out of this court by daybreak tomorrow, I will tear her to shreds, and refuse to cooperate with you in training. The other High Priestesses will hear about her death. Get her out of this court.” I turned, walking away toward the stairwell, not sparing a glance for Lucien; this act had to be perfect. “Or else.”

❋❋❋

_Three Spring Court troops and unknown number of Hybern troops arriving tomorrow at daybreak to invade Velaris. Two Spring Court troops and unknown number of Hybern troops arriving at Adriata to force Summer Court to ally with them. I highly suggest getting into contact with the other courts._

As soon as I’d gotten to my room, I’d ripped out a piece of stationary under some books and started scribbling on the paper. I had to let Rhys know as soon as possible what I’d found out, so he'd have more time to prepare. The message disappeared and reappeared extremely quickly.

_Thank you. I’ll send some Illyrian troops to Summer Court as well, as a gesture of forgiveness and goodwill. Are you okay?_

_Hybern wants me to start training with Jurian beginning tomorrow. They’re breaking down the wall next week, and they want me to help with it._ The paper disappeared, and when it came back, it fluttered slightly, crumpled. By that, the way Rhys’ letters were slanted, and the tremor down the mating bond, I could tell that my mate was furious.

 _I could come get you tonight. You've done enough for the Night Court._ A choice. And as much as I hated being inside of this gilded cage known as the Spring Court. . . I'll be Cauldron-damned if I chose to go back to the Night Court now.

_No. I've just started learning actually useful information. I have no doubt Hybern is planning more attacks on the Night Court, and most likely the neutral courts as well, to win them to his cause before we do. If I stay, I'll be able to gather more intelligence about those attacks. I can alert you to them beforehand. Plus, I still have to figure out why Hybern wants my sisters._

_I don't deserve you_ , said the last message from Rhys. I was about to reply when the paper burned into smoke and shadows. _Bastard._ I’d told him once before. We deserved each other. But Rhysand was nothing if not stubborn.

I scowled as I started scouting about my room for another piece of paper.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight — Rhysand

 

I was about to winnow to the Illyrian Steppes when Cassian called to me.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“Feyre sent a message that Hybern and the Spring Court are sending troops to invade Velaris and the Summer Court. I need to get our defenses ready.” Cassian was still lying on the floating bed that I'd charmed for him. The healers had said that he'd heal much faster without his wings, and they were optimistic that he’d be able to move about with little to no pain in another few days. No fighting though, they'd said. It would stretch and strain the muscles too much before they were ready.

“Let me come,” he said. “You need me. I'm your army commander.”

“You're on  _ bed-rest _ , Cassian. You're not coming. And you're not fighting in the battle either, unless the Hybern trash has broken through our defenses, and I send you a message, during which time you may use whatever strength you have left to save as much of Velaris and our people as you can. Until then, however, you're staying in that damned bed. No excuses. Or else I'll make Azriel come by and watch you instead of Nesta,” I threaten. He groaned, but didn't argue with me anymore.

Nesta and his relationship had improved significantly, to say the least. I suspected they were mates, but Nesta hadn't accepted the bond. Yet, she'd managed to keep him in a—relatively—sober mood most of the time. He hadn't stopped reminding us of his uselessness without wings, but at least he'd stopped screaming bloody murder for us to kill him.

And he'd started cracking jokes and being the vulgar, yet charismatic, Illyrian I knew again. To say that the rest of us was relieved was an understatement. What a charm Nesta, and all the Archeron sisters, had.

I winnowed to various Illyrian campsites that day, requesting a troop from each. Devlon, the bastard, sent me a half-trained women Illyrian group. Despite not being as well trained as their male counterparts, more than several of the women wore Siphons, and their bloodlust certainly rivaled the others by their snarls and wicked smiles.

By late afternoon, all of the Illyrian troops were in place. I’d sent five to the Night Court border with the sea—far enough from Velaris for them not to be affected by the wards, but close enough to protect it. I sent another three troops to fly to the border between Winter and Summer Court to hide. In the dead of the night, they'd fly over to the borders of Adriata, so that they wouldn't be captured by Tarquin, but they would be able to defend the city the next morning.

That night, I called a meeting to the House of Wind, informing my Inner Circle of the battle that was coming. Feyre had given us a warning, but not by much. There was much preparations to make.

Velaris had never been prepared for attacks. There were no safe houses, like other cities, and no underground bunkers. The best warning we could give our people was to advise them to stay in their homes until informed otherwise. No one wanted a bloodshed like the last time, and the first time, Hybern had invaded Velaris.

“I don't want the battle to be anywhere near Velaris. We start the battle at the sea, and we end it at the sea,” I said. “I want you all to be at the cliffs. Leave the sky-fighting to the troops. Find a good vantage point, and get rid of any soldiers that make it past the Illyrians.”

“And where will you be, Rhys?” Amren asked. I loosed a sigh.

“Summer Court. I have the feeling that even with the Illyrian reinforcements, it will not be enough. Hybern seeks to leave us with no allies, and that means scaring the other courts enough to not make them want to push back. He will strive to make an example of the Summer Court.”

“And you realize, that with the blood ruby bounty on your head, Rhys, you will be killed on sight.” I nodded.

“It's a risk I'll have to take. A risk we’ll  _ all _ have to take.”

“I know that.” Amren said cooly. “And what about the Book?” This was her first time asking about it after the latest events.

I quirked an eyebrow. “What about it?” It currently resided in a hidden chamber beneath the House of Wind. I didn’t have much choice since the bastard of the King had the Cauldron. Who knew what it could do.

“There are better options. Hiding it under this mountain isn’t safe.”

“And  _ what _ are the better options, Amren?” I said. “The King has the Cauldron. We already know that he can track me with it when I use my powers. Who says that he can’t track the Book with it? It’s better if it’s within our range so that we’re ready for a fight.”

“Think about it, Rhysand. There are places here that people can’t escape once entered. Places filled with creatures that are cruel and unforgiving.” Amren’s eyes went cold. “The Book should be left with one of them.”

I couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. “Are you suggesting that I leave it with one of the creatures in the Prison?” A nod. “ _The_ _Prison_?” She glared at me like _I_ was the one spurting nonsense. “Amren, you know better than I do about what lives there. Of what they do and such. How can I trust one of them with the Book?”

Amren slid off her seat and sauntered up to me so that she was inches away from my face. “Not all the creatures there are filled with menace. There are creatures there who have been there for who knows how long. Every day is spent looking in the darkness, forcing themselves to eat food that most likely doesn’t please them. Stuffed in cells for centuries, millennia, playing by themselves. All they want is to go home. Trusting one of them with the Book would ensure its protection and analyzation.”

“Why can’t you do it? Things worked out well last time.”

She sighed. “I do. And I'm thankful you even considered giving it to me as a ticket to home, but we don’t have time, and there’s so much to do. Besides, I don’t want to be near it anymore. Ugly creatures will be crawling out of sleep, being attracted to the Book of Breathings. They could be following its scent right now. But that aside, the beings in the Prison probably know the language better than I do and would translate it much faster.”

And that was probably true. But to trust them with the Book. . . I didn’t even know what the Book could do. “How would one know they wouldn’t use the Book’s powers to their advantage?”

Amren fixed her stare on me once again. “Of course the crueler ones would be tempted to use its powers. But trust me, all they want is to return home.”

“But—”

“There are no  _ buts _ Rhysand. I was one of idiotic fools who decided to enter another world at the sight of one of rips of the realms. I walked on these lands for  _ minutes _ before the damned ripple closed behind me. Imagine being trapped in a whole other world, becoming forced to be in an unknown body. With bland food and the desire to destroy everything in sight. I was put in the Prison because I was not of this world, and I was stuck in that prison for  _ thousands _ of years before I was let out. This is the last time I’m saying this.” Her eyes glinted with sparks. “ _ Trust me _ . They just want to go home.”

And with Amren standing almost about a foot shorter, on her toes, shooting daggers at me with her eyes, I knew that this was the most she ever told me about her life.

“Who do you suggest we give it to?”

❋❋❋

I stood before the gate made of bones, the Book in out in the open in my hands. This was probably a bad idea, but it would get attention of all the prisoners.

I hadn’t entered the Prison since the Bone Carver with Feyre. Cauldron, every time I thought of her—which was quite frequently—I wanted to crash the Spring Court and just take her in my arms. To feel her and smell her scent again. 

But right now, I was in front of a gate made of bones.

Amren and I had a very detailed discussion the previous night about who to give it to.

We went through many names; Yacu, an amphibious being with the resemblance of a man and amazing healing powers, the Double Walker, who could take the form of the last living thing he touched, the Soul Cannibal, an owl-like beast that was able to prey on victims in both physical and dream realms, and many more terrible creatures I did not want to deal with.

But alas, we settled on a creature that Amren entered the prison with.  A beast with no true or natural form with a wide range of abilities that went by the name, Sukra. Like Amren, Sukra was put in because of their nature and was later released. However, Sukra decided to use his powers for evil and as an illusionist, made everyone of Prythian—or tried to—believe he was their ruler. Only those who believed the illusion or failed to dispel it was caught in his trap. Fortunately, the ones who were able to see through the illusion gathered and stopped Sukra right as he was about to eat almost everyone in a gigantic beast form while entertaining himself with Fae who lost their mind.

He was powerful—perhaps the most powerful in the Prison. And it would be dangerous to yield the book to him, but he was wise. The less offenders weren’t likely to know the language, and the ones that did were very, very gruesome.

The Bone Carver, despite his shocking kindness from the previous visit, would use the Book to its own advantage and pass it on to another prisoner.

Amren suggested Sukra because she had heard of his species despite being from different realms, and that there were some who chose to use their power for good. How she knew, I didn’t ask. But if that was true and I offered him the book, would he convert to goodness?

I stepped through the gate to find out.

❋❋❋

Indeed, the path was already filled with whispers, cries, and unworldly noises when I had walked through with my orb of light. I’d walked hours, past the roots of the mountains, past many creatures whose murmurs filled my head before finally reaching the slab of stone I was looking for.

One wave from my hand revealed a door made of bone, etched with a single image: a man with ten different faces, of all creatures alike, each with a cunning smile with multiple arms. Courtesy of the Bone Carver, of course.

The door swung open.

“I’m disappointed you didn’t bring your beloved mate with you,” said a deep male voice I recognized from inside as I stepped inside. My father’s. 

The bobbing light revealed Sukra pacing around in the corner of his cell, posing as my father. “I suppose she didn’t contain much information if the Bone Carver let you guys go like that. Although the Bone Carver became awfully soft towards the end. Your mate has quite the charm. But I see you brought something that certainly has my attention.”

I stuffed my retort back in my throat, wishing that that was the last time he would mention Feyre. “Yes, I’ve brought the Book.”

Sukra shimmered and transformed into my mother. The same long, dark wavy hair from when I had last seen her. The same easy smile she gave me when I last flew with her. The same—

I took a deep breath.  _ That’s not her. The prick can shapeshift into anything, anyone.  _

Sukra smiled once again, and I bit back a growl. “How’s  _ Feyre _ doing at the Spring Court?” He said with my mother’s voice, pronouncing her name long and slow, and I carefully wrapped myself in a bit of darkness, to cool myself down. “I can hear your thoughts, Rhysand, no need to choke on it.”

I snorted while reinforcing my shield. “I didn’t come here to talk about Feyre.”

“No, you didn’t, and I’ve been waiting for your arrival ever since I felt your presence from above the ground, so out with it, High Lord.” Sukra glimmered and became a young girl with my violet eyes and tiny Illyrian wings. Innocence—and fear and sorrow—shone on her face.

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped appearing as my family.” I said, resisting the urge to hug and comfort my sister—Sukra, it was Sukra.

“It's your choice to believe whether it’s real or not, Rhysand. Although I thought you already knew that.” The fear and sorrow from my sister’s face faded. Instead, her eyes seemed to twinkle, reminding me of when she was telling me an especially good joke.

A deep breath. I told myself she wasn't here. She was gone.

And just like that, the illusion of my sister was gone too—and in her place revealed an ugly hog-like creature with two tusks jutting out of his mouth and sharp claws that were twice the size of his small fingers. Sukra smirked.

“I’m here to bargain with you. I’ll let you read the book, and maybe you will learn how you and others can go home. In return, you will also analyze it and tell us what power it holds to our advantage against Hybern.”

Sukra sat in a crouching position, lightly strumming his nails against the cold ground. “Free me from this suffocating Hell, and I’ll do it.”

“Even if I was stupid enough to do that you know I’m not able to.” I snapped. “No prisoner can be freed once they step foot in the Prison.” 

“I know the absurd rule. Rules can be broken.” Sukra said smoothly.

“Spells that have been built by numerous High Lords can’t.”

“The Book can.”

I sighed. “You’re better off biding your time in this cell.”

Sukra snorted. “I thought you were a smart High Lord.” I raised my eyebrows. “With my range of abilities, think about how much I would help you in the war. I can make Hybern’s soldiers fight on your side and eat them afterwards. Killing two birds with one stone, correct? Or maybe four birds because I’ll be helping you with the Book as well as myself.”

I paused, pondering. “How am I to trust that I have your full loyalty, and that you won’t destroy Prythian on your own afterwards?”

“Please, Rhysand, that was millennia ago. Plus, you can’t expect me to be in my best condition in this solitary darkness. I just want to go back to the world I belong to.” Like Amren said, that’s what he truly wanted. 

But there were lines that couldn’t be crossed. 

I looked at the small beast just as a wave of light passed.

Maybe I  _ would _ free him, and he would help us, save us from the threats from Hybern. He would protect the Book while protecting us, and. . . _ This wasn’t real. _

I cleared my mind and glared at—

A slab of stone.

The prisoners were heavily spelled along with the cells, and there were guards at every corner. Which meant Sukra was still here, just invisible.

“You’re not making this easy.” I said in the dimness. 

I looked around the cell, looking for something  _ off _ .

Moments passed before Feyre’s voice filled my head.

_ Rhys? Amren told me you went to the Prison. Are you okay? _

I growled, trying to force the sound of Sukra’s voice posing as Feyre’s out of my head. “How can I consider freeing you when you keep playing these mind games?” 

There was a tap on my shoulder to reveal a blue-skinned man with no eyes, a crooked nose, and a mouth whose lips had been  _ torn _ off. . . and he was hanging upside down, his feet appearing to be attached to the top of his cell. I was surprised, but didn’t flinch. Sukra grinned as he said, “So you  _ are _ deigning to consider, oh mighty High Lord?” I kept quiet, pursing my lips.

“I have a war to handle. I’ll return in two days or so.”

“Bring Feyre next time!” Sukra called out as I walked outside of the cell, the bone door closing behind me.

❋❋❋

Only fifteen minutes since we first spotted Hybern’s and the Spring Court’s armies on the horizon, and already, the sea was turning an ugly shade of red. The troops Tamlin had sent mainly consisted of lesser faeries with wings the shade of spring: bright greens and yellows and reds. I spent a few minutes observing the carnage—the Illyrians were in air battle with the Attor-like creatures and the Spring Court lesser fae. And they were winning. What few soldiers that made it through to the beach were sliced down by Azriel. Any that made it past that faced the wrath of Amren and Mor. It wasn’t much of a fight, although Hybern and the Spring Court had never anticipated a fight here, on the threshold of the Night Court. They’d planned to quickly make it to Velaris, and advance as far as they could. The thought of the bastards destroying the city I’d sworn my life on to protect. . . rage simmered through me.

Mor placed a hand on my shoulder. “You should get going. We can handle it here.” I nodded.

“If all goes well—” Mor silenced me with a pointed glare. I quickly corrected myself. “All will go well. I’ve moved Cassian to the House of Wind, and I’ll meet you three there as well, in a few hours.” This time, my cousin nodded her approval at my choice of words, and waved me on. I obliged, quickly winnowing to the border between the Winter Court and the Summer Court before unveiling my wings and flying toward Adriata. With the battle going on at Adriata, I could winnow in without being struck down immediately with all the chaos going on, but I didn’t want to ruin my surprise entrance. Of course, I’d have to be extra careful once I did flew into Adriata. I did not want Tarquin, or Cresseida for the matter, to know about my wings, and my love of flying.

I would not arrive in Adriata until the battle there had already raged for an hour. But that was the strategical point. Azriel had told me that the Summer Court definitely did not have the resources or the men to withstand a full-out attack from Hybern, and the Spring Court for the matter, that seeked for total surrender. I would enter the battle during a time in which Tarquin would be exhausted from the use of his powers, and during a time that the entire court would be desperate.

It was a cruel, but necessary measure to ensure the loyalty of the Summer Court.

Despite my anger towards the battles that Hybern had quickly waged, it pleased me greatly that I no longer had to go with Amren and my mate into Adriata and attempt to. . . restrain Tarquin and convince him to lift the blood ruby bounty and our heads. Although, Sukra and the Book of Breathings was a problem now.

Still, the flight over the Summer Court was beautiful. Not as beautiful as Velaris, perhaps, but I saw several waterfalls and the court boasted a glorious mountain range that seemed to shine and glitter underneath the early dawn sun.

By the time I reached Adriata, however, I realized how utterly trashed the outside of the city was once more. I’d visited Adriata once in my fifty years of captivity under Amarantha, and during that time, the beautiful seaside city had been littered throughout. Buildings collapsed into the ocean and were corroded. Tarquin’s palace had crumbled. Seawater had flooded throughout the city.

Now, though, the beaches were no longer yellow, and were instead colored with blood and guts and lifeless bodies. I hadn’t seen this level of carnage since the War, and the first battle by Hybern on Velaris, and the entire sight made me slightly queasy. The fighting had moved inland, and I could hear clashes of swords. As I made a flight around the city, close to the ground, I winced as I noted the number of fallen warriors with huge, membranous wings. Illyrians. Many of them had fallen as well.

I made my way to the tallest building I could find in the city that was also near the battle before sitting down and concealing my wings once more. Then, I spent the next twenty minutes observing the battle. Varian was still leading several groups of Summer Court faeries, and he himself was holding up well against the malicious faeries that Hybern had sent. Cresseida, surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly due to her love for her people, was also in the battle. She kept towards the edges of the battle, slicing down anyone who tried to make their way further into the city to terrorize the citizens. Summer Court magic flowed from her, water forming shapes like tendrils of ribbons. Watching Cresseida fight was like watching an extremely coordinated and complex dance. She wove the water into ribbons around her, an effective shield and an effective offense. The ribbons encircled her like a tornado, and seemed to whip out with a mind of their own as they took down soldier after soldier. The water tendrils seemed to have an extremely heavy force, I realized, as I watched a ribbon crack a soldier’s head open. Very gruesome.

Any other soldiers that ventured into the city were grabbed by the water ribbons and often flung right onto Varian’s blade. The siblings knew and understood each other like the back of their hand. Despite being nearly a mile apart from each other, their powers helped each other out and increased the number of soldiers killed.

Cresseida didn’t only use magic though. She made rounds around and around the edges of the battle, forcing her way through with that ribbon tornado as she sliced and diced with a long and pointed sword that I couldn’t help but make a comparison to a toothpick, only much longer, and much sharper. A Summer Court style blade that Varian, and his soldiers, used as well.

Toward the center of the battle was Tarquin, in a blue and gold gilded war chariot. Like Feyre, he used the water to form animals. Different predators constantly erupted from him: wolves, lionesses, tigers, jackals, eagles, hawks, falcons. The occasional buffalo and elephant erupted as well, and they ran through the battle, plowing any unfortunate soldier in their paths. In the sea, I saw killer whales, sharks, and dolphins tearing into the Hybern and Spring Court faeries left in the water. It was a terrifying battle, encased in a whirlwind of water and blood, but the Summer Court was losing.

Cresseida’s tornado of ribbons seemed incredibly slow, and her sibling and Tarquin were all covered in sheen of liquid that I was sure was sweat, and not from the flying water droplets, from their powers.

Step by step, the Summer Court yielded as the tremendous force of Hybern and Spring Court forced themselves into the heart of Adriata. I knew that Tarquin, Cresseida, and Varian knew that the Summer Court would not win this battle, despite the mysterious Illyrians, from the Night Court, that had arrived to help battle. They knew they would lose this battle, and would be forced to surrender the Summer Court.

And so I finally stepped in. I raised my arms—the act taking me back to when Hybern had discovered Velaris, and I had arrived in City of Starlight finding the Rainbow covered in blood—and darkness unfolded from within me.

From all corners of the horizon, night rolled in, covering the eternal warmth of the Summer Court with coolness and the whispers of shadows. Slowly, the sound of blades clanging against blades stopped.

And just like that fateful day in Velaris, the darkness wiped out every soul that tainted of Hybern and the Spring Court. Realizing what was happening, Tarquin, Varian, and Cresseida began fighting once more in a renewed vigor. Cresseida’s water tendrils joined with my shadowy creations, and together, the ribbon-like substance slammed into the remaining soldiers. Some of the Spring Court soldiers were spared, however. Cresseida’s water ribbons wrapped around them like rope, and they were hauled off to Tarquin’s palace.

Within fifteen minutes of my helping, all of Hybern’s and the Spring Court’s ranks were either wiped or captured.

I spent another two hours on the rooftop, now comfortably lounging under the much cooled air of the night sky, which I had brought on prematurely. The siblings and Tarquin took the time to handle the dead and wounded. The dead Hyberns and Spring Court soldiers were dissolved in water by Tarquin. The dead Summer Court soldiers were carried farther into the city, to later be given a proper burial. And the Illyrian soldiers. . . Tarquin had them placed in one spot, no doubt to have the Illyrian commanders take control of what happened to them. It wasn’t until after they had cleaned up, bandaged the wounded, and sent all the soldiers off from the battle site did Tarquin finally call to me, albeit tiredly, the Prince and Princess of Adriata standing next to him, exhausted.

“Rhysand, I know you’re here somewhere. I’d prefer if you’d come out.” I smirked and quickly winnowed in front of him.

“Lord Tarquin,” I said pleasantly. Neither Varian and Cresseida had a snarky reply for me, although both were still wet and probably lacked the necessary energy to dry themselves automatically or the energy to retort.

“Lord Rhysand,” he greeted me once more. “It was a surprise when you sent forces to our aide, and even helped us out yourself, although I suppose it was a calculated measure.” I grinned.

“Indeed it was.” Tarquin seemed to have no response to that, though his tired eyes roamed over me once more.

“You seem to have disregarded the blood ruby bounty upon your head,” he finally said. I shrugged.

“Perhaps we ought to be heading to your palace to chat diplomacy instead of standing around this bloodbath,” I said, gesturing toward the pools of blood and guts that were still spilled on the ground. Tarquin nodded, despite the fact that I had practically invited myself into his palace, and waved me toward his war chariot, which was still nearby. 

I shoved my hands into my pockets as I followed Tarquin to the war chariot, which I now noticed had wave crest embellishments. I’d rather winnow to his palace, than ride through the city and see what other casualties Adriata had. I did not want to know how many fewer casualties there would be if I hadn’t chosen to manipulate my moves, waiting until the last possible moment to intervene in their battle.

But this was war.

And war called for all my dirtiest tricks. No matter the cost.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine — Feyre

It was a wonder how I was able to keep my fists of fire away from Jurian’s face. The talons that were now forming itched to take a swipe across his eyes that were watching my every move.

“Impressive.” Jurian said from where he lounged on a ledge that I could easily winnow to and rip his balls out. _Could_ , but wouldn’t, unfortunately. Because he had to believe that he was in power. Even though that wasn’t the case. Even though I could easily kill him now. Maybe I should. . .

The soft breeze made the leaves of all the plants around us rustle, the sound causing me to relax a bit. I closed my eyes, breathing in the fresh, crisp air. How long had it been since Ianthe came? An hour? Two? I had lost track of time when the King locked Tamlin in cage and possibly took Lucien as his slave. Along with the other foolish faeries in the manor that didn’t take their chance to leave the manor. Or maybe it didn’t matter if they left if the King chose to rule the entire Spring Court. Cauldron, how could this had happen?

It all happened so quickly. After placing Tamlin in a cage—which was wrong, but I couldn’t help thinking it served him right—the King of Hybern ordered Jurian to take me into the woods. I only had a moment of time to look at Lucien and infiltrate his mind and tell him to just go with whatever was happening and that I would find a way out for both of us. My friend had stared back at me with a grim look on his face, but he nodded, telling me that he understood. And that was the last time I saw him before the King called him over with Ianthe at his side.

Ianthe. The two-faced deceitful bitch who groveled at the King of Hybern’s feet. And for what? To overthrow all seven High Lords and take their place? She had the arrogance to try so with Rhys, but of course he refused and despised her because of it.  It was ridiculous. The King was most likely using Ianthe for his own plans. I wonder if she had plans of her own to take down the King for her selfish reasons.

But things were different now. I was a High Lady. Just as strong and powerful as a High Lord, perhaps even more so. High Lady of the Night Court. Rhys’s equal in every single way. I would wear a crown and sit on a throne beside his. A queen. His queen. . .  My king. I wondered how he was faring with the troops. He didn’t send a note after our last conversation, and I felt a few feelings I couldn’t make out down our bond, so I was worried. If Velaris or the Summer Court was anything near damaged—

“Wake up.” Jurian’s voice scattering my thoughts.

I scowled at him. “I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Not anymore, you aren’t.” He smirked.

From the past hour or so I’d spent with Jurian, I learned that he liked to joke around. Once in awhile.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started. “Back in Hybern, your sudden outburst. . .  and the wards going down.” He locked his gaze with mine. “Do you think the two connect?”

Jurian was ambitious, but he clearly knew nothing about subtly gaining information. “I didn’t know the wards were down until Rhysand and his friends got away. With my sisters too.” I growled slightly when I mentioned my sisters for effect. Fool him into thinking I hated Rhys. Jurian shrugged. A vague gesture that showed that he either didn’t care, or didn’t believe me. Perhaps both. Centuries of horror, on the battlefield and on Amarantha’s finger, was bound to have scrambled his brains and his sanity. He probably didn’t even care what happened in this war, as long as he got his vengeance.

“You’ve only shown me your fire,” Jurian said, shifting his stance to lean backwards against the ledge. “Certainly that’s not all you inherited. Show me some of your other tricks.” I hesitated slightly, but acted if off as exhaustion. Should I be demonstrating my other types of magic—ice, water, shape-shifting, shadows, healing, mind-reading, air? Definitely not shape-shifting or mind-reading. No Night Court magic, except for some minor shadow magic, like what I had used when Tamlin had trapped me in this manor months ago. I didn’t want Jurian suspecting that I had been anything more than a whore and slave to Rhys. Jurian’s mind may have been scattered after all those past centuries, but he was no fool. I didn’t doubt the cunning behind his slightly crazed pupils.

Slowly, I raised a hand toward the glass of water on the ledge next to Jurian and motioned for it to rise. The cup of water rose and formed a blob. Jurian whistled lowly in appreciation. I glanced toward him, itching to read his mind. Jurian’s reactions were so. . .  ambiguous. . .  that sometimes, I wasn’t sure whether he ached to have the same powers as I did, or if he was truly marveling in something—literally—magical.

“So what exactly is the King planning to do to Tamlin and Lucien? And to the rest of the Spring Court?” I asked, willing the water blob to turn into a butterfly and fly around his head. I was very much tempted to let the water fall on him, but it wasn’t worth the trouble.

Jurian’s eyes followed the movement of the butterfly, and I waited a long moment, before turning the butterfly back into a floating blob and his attention returned to me.

“I’m not sure myself,” he said, piercing the blob of water with a small twig he threw. It created a hole before I made it whole again. “He mentioned something about him disobeying orders, but I wasn’t informed about what he did.”

“And I thought you were his right-hand man,” I commented casually. Jurian scoffed.

“His right-hand man, I may be, but I am not without my own goals.” I raised an eyebrow.

“Miryam?” I questioned.

Jurian’s head whipped towards me, his cutting stare analyzing every part of my body. “Tell me where she is.”

“I was told she was dead along with her lover, Drakon.”

“Did Morrigan teach you to lie?” Jurian said with a smile. I suppressed a growl. “I’m aware that Miryam and Drakon are on an island.”

I gaped at him. How did he know? Mor only mentioned that to. . .

The queens. The stupid, arrogant, foolish queens.

Jurian saw the understanding in my face and said, “Yes, I suppose you can blame Morrigan for giving away the five hundred year old secret, but I’m glad she did. Unfortunately, she was not kind enough to reveal _which_ island.”

I made a mental note to make the eldest queen’s death slow and agonizing. “I hope you never find her.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when trouble awaits you.” I suppressed another growl. I couldn’t help, but notice the uncanny similarities between Tamlin and Jurian. Both were in love with a mortal woman. Both mortal women—me and Miryam—left them after they changed and became. . . different. Feral. Consumed. Consumed by fear and terror, in Tamlin’s case, and bloodthirst and vengeance in Jurian’s. Both sought to take back their lover no matter the cost, and both were insufferably, unbelievably, self-justified in their actions. And they spared no thought for what their past lover truly wanted.

In that moment, my sympathy reached out for Miryam, for the similar past we shared, wherever she was now with her mate, Drakon.

I leaned against a ledge and folded my arms. “Are we done here? Do I still need to summon butterflies for your amusement? Or can I go back inside to write some love letters?” Jurian snorted, seemingly amused by my ludicrousness, although I hadn’t been joking or even trying to be funny. I needed to get to my room and check up with Rhys. By now. . . I glanced up toward the sun. It was nearly mid-day. Both battles at Velaris and Adriata would be over by now, and I was hungry for news. If the King or Jurian knew anything, they didn’t care to share, and I wasn’t sure if it would be in character for me to ask.

“Oh, darling,” Jurian drawled. Internally, I shuddered at the endearment. Only my mate was allowed to call me that. “We’ve barely begun. Surely you’re not _that_ desperate to go fuck Tamlin? I doubt it would be comfortable to make love in a dank cell.” _So they were still holding Tamlin in that cage. Serves him right._ “Honestly, all you’ve shown me is some petty fireworks and liquid butterflies. I don’t have to repeat this every time after you show me a new trick, do I? We’re supposed to be training here. The King will be disappointed that you’re as weak as I always imagined you were.” The growl this time nearly passed my lips. I was the High Lady of the Night Court. He thought I was weak? I pushed down on the powers that strained to rip free from under my skin. Oh. He was going to be sorely mistaken for that.

Externally, however, I wiped my hands on the leathers I was once again wearing. “Come fight me then,” I said, tilting my chin towards the sword Jurian held loosely in one hand. “I’ll show you what other tricks I have up my sleeves.”

“You’re not worth my fight,” Jurian answered, now starting to pick at his nails. The sheer _nerve_.

Before my brain registered what was happening, I had winnowed in front of Jurian. One surprise move had me disarming him, and the long, wicked sword ended up in my hand, the blade pressed close under his chin, like a lover’s caress. Pirouetting flames decorated the side of the blade not touching him. Jurian stiffened, and my sensitive Fae ears could hear his heartbeat speeding up. An ache quickly spread through my right. How I longed to draw that sword, to see him bleed, to see him die. But killing him would yield no benefits. The King would simply bring him back again using the Cauldron and would likely keep a closer watch on me of my deception.

Instead, a feral grin lit up my face. If I couldn’t kill Jurian, might as well have some fun with him.

“Still think I’m not worthy?” I crooned before dancing away, fire-lit blade still in hand.

Jurian smirked. “Did those Illyrian bastards teach you how to fight?” Too fast for me to process, and beyond fast for a mortal, Jurian kicked the sword out of my hands and caught the handle with one hand. He pointed the fiery tip at my face. “Don’t forget that I fought _against_ and _with_ your kind in the War, that I killed many, and you are certainly not an exception.”

“But you fell in love with a half-Fae, didn’t you?” He didn’t budge, and I went on. “You should realize that there is good in Prythian, and you’re siding with the wrong person. You dared to fight against Amarantha,” Her name tasted bitter on my lips, “and paid the consequences for it, but you’re serving her _King_ and at what cost?”

Jurian lowered the sword, and I took that as a chance to steal it back. He chuckled, even as I held the sword a fingernail’s width away from his eye. “The King has something I need,” he said simply.

The Cauldron.

He needed the Cauldron to find Miryam and possibly take revenge on Drakon.

Jurian slid out two daggers that he’d hidden under his sleeves and smiled. “Let’s see what those bastards taught you.”

I snarled and lunged at him.

❋❋❋

I made my way up the stairs, growling under my breath as my joints groaned in protest and bruises tingled all over my body. Dried blood colored my fighting leathers. Training with Jurian had been. . . brutal. Five centuries of being out of commission hadn’t slowed him down a bit. Jurian had been vicious, slamming in hits when I least expected it. He’d ruthlessly punched, sliced, and stabbed me, knowing that my immortal blood would heal me.

The same could not be said for Jurian. Despite my attempts to wound him without killing, I realized that his combat skills far surpassed mine, even with my use of magic to ensnare him. Jurian was a slippery adversary; I made a note to improve my fighting techniques to prepare for the war.

Once I got to my room, however, I relaxed. The King hadn’t summoned me all day. No doubt, however, I’d have to deal with him after this. I reached for another piece of cream stationery and a pen before beginning my correspondence with Rhys.

 _The King and Jurian have said nothing about the attacks on Velaris and Adriata. I am assuming it went well? Or else I’m sure the arrogant buffoon would have been gloating over it today, during training._ For once, I decided I’d try the disappearing trick and sending the letter, rather than waiting for Rhys to detect the letter. Sending a letter, I realized, must be similar to winnowing. With that, I closed my eyes and concentrated on wind and darkness and stars, and the letter, along with the pen, flying through it, to reach a destination of wherever my mate, Rhysand, was. There was the sound of a flutter of paper. I peeked open one eye, just in time to see the stationery disappear. Surprised, yet certainly pleased, I sat down on the chair in my room and waited.

Only a minute later, the stationery and pen dropped onto the table. I sat forward, eager to read what my mate had written back.

_Both cities are secure. I’m currently at the Summer Court. Sending messages through our mating bond should be easier, now that I’m closer. How’s training against Jurian?_

The question was innocent enough, but I wasn’t fooled as a tingling of fury and worry made its way through the mating bond, from Rhys.

 _The blood ruby bounty hasn’t gotten you killed yet? I’m surprised._ I smiled slightly at that. My mate would know I was teasing him. _As for Jurian. . . there hadn’t been enough time at Hybern for me to. . . feel him out per say. But after all I’d heard about him. . . well. . . there’s more to him than what meets the eye._ After I finished, I sent along the letter and pen again with magic again.

The letter Rhys sent back said, _Be wary of Jurian. He pretended to fall in love with Clythia, who he used as an informant of the fae, before he eventually killed her. Jurian is extremely charismatic. Don’t fall for his tricks. I have to go; Tarquin is calling a council meeting to discuss proceedings of the war. Stay alert. I love you._

Despite the warning Rhys had sent me about Jurian, I couldn’t help, but compare the two as I burned up the cream stationery. Jurian had used all the means possible to try and win the war for the mortals. Was Rhys not the same when it came to protecting those he loved?

❋❋❋

I returned downstairs to find the King waiting for me. He sat in Tamlin’s seat, sipping a glass of wine. Despite being a King, he didn’t wear much finery, even when I last saw him at Hybern. His shoulder-length black hair was tied back revealing more of his ruddy skin. The casualness of it all disgusted me.

“The child of seven courts returns,” the King said by way of greeting, holding up his wine to me. Jurian sat next to him, cleaning his nails with a knife—the same one, I was sure, as the one he’d used against me while training just a few hours ago. Ianthe, fortunately, was nowhere in sight. However, that meant she was possibly warming someone’s bed right now. Where was Lucien? “Training went well, I heard?”

I looked at Jurian who shrugged. “Yes.”

The King scoffed. “Come on, we’re working together now, why don’t we be more friendly? If you’re mad about what happened at Hybern, blame your beloved for it. I was only upholding our bargain. Blame the queens as well. I was upholding our bargain as well. What happened to your sisters was a bonus. A gift. You’ll never have to watch them grow old and wither.” I wished that Jurian would plunge his knife deep in the King’s heart, but I couldn’t have everything I wished for, could I? “As for what happened to those night critters, that doesn’t matter right? According to you, they’re monsters and made you suffer.” The King gave a smile that suggested he thought the opposite. “It’s amazing how you were able to escape the High Lord’s control.”

I wouldn’t let his words get to me so I merely said, “Where’s Tamlin?”

“Where’s the Book?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

His smile only grew, as if he was pleased I was still keeping up the act. “He’s down in the dungeon where traitors belong. Along with that emissary of his.” I relaxed a bit, knowing that Ianthe wasn’t anywhere near Lucien. “Would you like to visit them?”

I nodded. _Down in the dungeon where traitors belong._ I wondered what foolish decision Tamlin made this time if it called for him to be caged. He inclined his head towards Jurian, gesturing for him to escort me.

As I trailed behind Jurian, the King called out, “Enjoy my present, Feyre!”

Whatever that meant.

I was lead to a dungeon which was outside the manor. A new part of the Spring Court that I was able to venture.

Unlike the time at the Prison, I wasn’t frightened. The dungeon didn’t hold the same darkness nor the same type of prisoners. In fact, it wasn’t even half as bad the Prison. Nevertheless, there was likely to be dangerous foes in here, and Tamlin and Lucien were among them. Soft whispers and screeching claws trailed behind me as I followed Jurian. I didn’t dare to look at what was inside the cells even as there were hands that ended in claws reaching out.

“If you walk down to the end of this hall, you’ll see them,” Jurian said as he turned around.

“What? You’re just going to leave me here?” What a foolish mistake.

He snorted. “This dungeon has wards. If you try to free someone, you and the prisoner will meet a bad end. Besides, the prisoners should be enough to frighten you.” He studied me for a few heartbeats before he said, “Don’t do anything stupid when you reach the end. I’ll be waiting outside.”

I watched him walk out, his figure becoming smaller and smaller. I took a deep breath and ventured forward. I wondered what was the so-called present that the King said he had for me. Did he do something to Tamlin? To Lucien? It didn’t make sense for him to give me a prisoner.

I finally reached the end of the corridor, and Tamlin’s and Lucien’s scents filled my nose. There was another scent, however, that smelled very familiar in its own way.

“Feyre? Is that you?” Lucien.

In the third and second to last cells, Tamlin and Lucien sat there, bruised and scarred. I looked at them, scanning their pleading faces, but ignored them as my gaze was drawn towards the very last cell, holding the new, yet familiar scent.

I looked inside and found two females. A girl sat near the bars of the cell, and behind her sat another woman, although her face was hidden by the shadows that seemed to engulf their cell.

My breath caught as I studied the face of the girl in front of me. Pointed ears. Deep violet eyes. Silky, raven black hair.

And behind her. . . the shadows. . . they weren’t shadows at all, I realized. Two sets of Illyrian wings—one from the girl and one from the woman behind her—stretched out in the dark cell.

The resemblance to Rhys. . . I looked back at the girl, and found the female version of my mate’s face looking back at me.

"Your, you—” My words stumbled over each other as I kept staring at the girl’s uncanny features. I suddenly felt as unstable as when I had first been Made. “Your name. . . it wouldn’t happen to be Enfys. . . would it?”


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten — Rhysand

 

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you—not including your aid from that battle,” Tarquin declared as soon as he took a seat at the head of the dining table, slightly different from the one at Adriata. Today, we were in Etruria as this was where Tarquin and his court spent their time during the mid-spring months to the first month of summer. 

I took the seat next to him. Varian and Cresseida had other matters to attend to, so they sat this discussion out. “I was informed that only our courts were attacked. You can explain that part to me later if I choose to keep you alive,” Tarquin said, raising a hand to nearby servant.

I snorted. “I’ll give you  _ three _ reasons why you should keep me alive.” I looked at him dead in the eye. “The first and foremost would be that we need to be allied against Hybern. The reason Adriata was attacked today, with such a large force, was because Hybern hoped to sway you back to neutrality. Either that, or he hoped that you would choose to ally with him. I’m sure he’s planning more attacks to the other courts sooner or later.” 

My attention snagged to a plate of sautéed fish that was being placed in front of me. I casually picked up my utensils. “My  _ second _ reason,” I said, waiting for Tarquin to take the first bite before I took one of my own, “is that I think we’d make a good pair. We have similar. . . visions.”

“My visions do not include any schemes or manipulation.” 

I paused my eating to look at him. “Neither do mine.”

He held my stare, considering what I just said. “What’s the third reason?” 

“If you kill me, then you would have to face the wrath of my mate.” I smirked. I loved referring to Feyre as my mate. My mate. . . and High Lady of the Night Court. What was she up to now?

Tarquin’s eyes widened a bit, but he chuckled. “I knew there was a meaning behind the sway that you and Feyre had when you came to visit.” 

Yes, our last visit. When she’d gotten jealous of Cresseida. And I had gotten jealous of Tarquin. To be honest, I had been aware that she was watching us that night on the barge. Through our bond, I’d sensed a twinge of jealousy from her, but she hadn’t admitted it to herself, so I’d chosen to provoke her a bit by giving Cresseida a smile I hadn’t even given Feyre yet. Although, that probably had to do with her telling Tarquin it’d be easy to love him.

“Where is Feyre now?” Tarquin asked. 

The ocean waves gently crashed along the beach.

I finished my final piece of fish before I said, “With your neighbors to the south.”

That caught the High Lord of the Summer Court slightly off guard. “So the rumors were true. . . Or at least a part of it.” He set down his fork and someone came to take our plates away. “I’ve heard talk from the spring people saying that you had been controlling Feyre’s mind before she broke free and joined Tamlin again, but from the conversations I’ve had with Feyre, I knew them to be false,” he explained. “You say she’s your mate, Rhysand, and I don’t see you as the type to leave your mate with another man—especially Tamlin—without a good cause.” Definitely was not that type. “And Hybern’s there as well. . . Is she okay?”

“She chose to be there.” I sighed. Tarquin waited for me to continue. “I’ll explain,” I said, “if you choose to work with me. And help me with this upcoming war. We’ll fight Hybern together.”

Tarquin thought for a moment and cleared his throat. “Through the eyes of many, the High Lord of Night is seen as a sadistic bastard who does everything in his own cruel, merciless way. Yet, I see differently. I think you do a lot of good in disguise. The others don’t see it that way though.” I studied him, wondering how sincere his words were or if he was just kissing my ass. Perhaps both. “I’m quite flattered that you want the help of a young High Lord like me.” The smile he gave didn’t match the sad, thoughtful manner in his eyes. I knew that look well—related to it. “I accept your offer, Rhysand. I’ll join your plans.”

He offered his hand, and I took it. “Now explain it—everything. Why Feyre is at the Spring Court, why you’re here, why you stole the Book of Breathings. Everything. I’d also like to know why you spared me Under the Mountain.”

Cresseida was right. Tarquin  _ was  _ ambitious. But that ambition was kind and well meaning. So I told him what he wanted to know. Not everything, of course, but just the gist of it all—just that what I did with Amarantha was to protect my people, I spared him because I’d heard he tried to make the lesser faeries and High Fae have an equal relationship. I briefly explained our attempt to nullify the Cauldron and how that led to the current situation.

Once I finished explaining, Tarquin was busy gathering his thoughts. 

“The Book of Breathings. . . As my court was given the responsibility to protect it, we were also given some of its secrets.” Tarquin met my questioning stare. “When Feyre put the two halves together, she triggered some sort of ripple in the world.” I had felt the ripple while I’d waited outside that day in Hybern. “There will be. . . things that will be coming after it.” Amren had said as much. “Where’s the Book now?”

“Safe.”

Tarquin gave me a look that suggested it wasn’t.

“I’ll be cautious,” I assured him. “So does this deal mean I can return the blood rubies?”

He laughed. “I’ll take them back solely because I fear Feyre’s wrath, not because of the deal.”

I snorted and then winked at the High Lord of Summer. “Feyre was going to wear some lacy underthings for you in exchange for taking back the blood rubies. So I’d say that you picked worse end of the deal.”

❋❋❋

I arrived back at my townhouse, checking off a mental list of things that had been accomplished. Distracted as I was, I didn’t realize what I had walked into until I heard Cassian snarl at me.

I was standing in the middle of the living room, Cassian still lying on the floating bed I’d conjured for him. Nesta stood next to it, arms crossed and glaring. The scent of the herbal ointment that was smeared on Cassian’s back was also smeared on Nesta’s hands. Despite the threatening aura the pair were sending towards me, I couldn’t help but dismiss my mental checklist, and instead stood with my hands in my pockets, grinning broadly.

“Enjoying yourself, Nesta?” I purred. “Cassian does have a very muscular backside.” I winked at her.

“Prick,” Nesta spat at me at the same time Cassian growled in a guttural voice, “bastard”.

“Take it easy, you two,” I said flippantly as I quickly made my way out of the living room before Nesta decided to pounce on me.

As I wandered the halls of my townhouse, I once again dropped back into thoughts. Cassian and Nesta were mates, that much was true, I knew. Yet they hadn’t completed the mating; Nesta either didn’t know of their bond yet, or she hadn’t decided to accept it.

Thinking about Nesta led to a whole different issue: Where in the Cauldron was Elain?!

It took barely a second for the Mother to answer my question. Something tight drew across my ankle, and a moment later, I was on the ground, snarling. The thing that had tripped me was a  _ vine _ .

As I got up, but stayed crouched and close to the ground, I noticed that the vine—which complemented the brown floorboards well despite my distaste for anything Spring Court-related—trailed all the way upstairs, intertwining with other green creepers.

I sniffed in disdain at the scent of spring—so familiar to the scent of Tamlin, and the scent of Feyre, before she'd made the Night Court her permanent home.

Curious at the sudden onslaught of plants in my house, I tracked the ivy, misting parts of it as I went, until I reached a room— _ Elain’s _ room, or at least, where she’d been staying since Nesta came over to see Cassian so often now.

Her room was the damned Spring Court. The walls were covered with ivy, and some sprouted flowers. A carpet of grass and wildflowers covered the floor. The bed was overgrown with rose bushes, but what seemed to be  _ everywhere _ was tulips and daisies, in a variety of colors.

“Elain.” My voice came out rather monotone. Realizing the issue, and quite a bit peeved, I cleared my throat and began again. “What the  _ hell _ have you—”

“Isn’t it beautiful!” Elain gushed, sliding in front of me. My cheek twitched. Had she just interrupted me? 

“Did you just—” I tried again, holding my temper on a tight leash. I noted Elain again. I was quite amused by the change of vibe of her. Her Night Court clothing had turned into a Spring Court nightmare. The fabric was covered with  _ live _ flowers, mainly daisies and tulips, which I assumed were her favorite flowers. Around her arms, ivy had twisted around them, making them look slightly like gloves. A flower crown made its home in her hair.

“I know you warned Nesta and I that our powers would begin showing soon, but isn’t this wonderful? I was just lying on the bed an hour ago or so, fiddling with the bouquet of flowers Lucien had given me,” Elain held up a bouquet of tulips and daisies, “when suddenly, roses started growing around me.” I side-eyed the red devils that had completely hidden her bed from view.

“It’s simply delightful. And your house is so dreary, so I thought why not liven it up, starting with this room?” I gawked, before clearing my throat once again, suddenly at a loss of what to say to the sister of my mate.

“Then I’ll, uh, leave you to your. . .” I waved my hand at the flowers before quickly ducking out of the room and returning to the living room, where I was once again met with another uncomfortable scene of Cassian and Nesta. I’d heard them bickering about precious family jewels while walking downstairs, but as I entered the room, the two immediately fell silent. The silence, in all honestly, was awkward. I would have preferred to join in the bickering by informing Nesta how small Cassian’s balls were, but now it didn’t seem the right time to bring it up. By the Cauldron, was this how the others felt with me and Feyre?

“Something wrong?” Cassian asked, breaking the silence as he sensed my borderline panic.

“By the Mother,” I said, breathing slightly heavily. “I’m going flying. Don’t expect me back here for some time. Elain is  _ terrifying _ .”

❋❋❋

I was gone for an hour or so, contemplating just about everything—how to put an end to Hybern, how Prythian would handle the war, how I would protect my people, how Feyre was doing, how Feyre spent her time, who Feyre was with right now, the next time I’d see Feyre. . . Feyre.

By the time I came back, the living room was filled with voices and. . . flowers.

“Just  _ what _ is going on here?” I walked through a curtain made of red, pink, and white rose petals, and I was greeted by potted plants in every corner and leaf garlands hanging along the walls and ceiling.

“Just brightening up the place,” Mor said when I strolled in. “We’ve been giving her suggestions the entire time you were questioning life.” I shot her a glare. “Oh come on, you always fly around when you have a lot in your mind. Anyways, how was Summer?” She sat on the single chair with her legs crossed while Azriel and Amren took the sofa. All waiting for me, apparently. 

Elain was seated on the other sofa across from them, and I plopped down next to her. “I had a little chat with Tarquin after fighting off the troops that Hybern sent. The Summer Court is dealing with them now.” I waved a hand so that refreshments appeared on the table and poured a glass for myself. “Tarquin agreed to work with us in the upcoming war.”

“How’d he agree after what happened?” Azriel asked, pouring a drink for himself and then for Cassian who arrived just then in his floating bed with Nesta following from a distance. Nesta sat next to Elain, and Cassian situated himself between Az and Nesta.

“I bet he used Feyre somehow to convince him,” Amren said as a joke, although it was sort of true.

Mor saw me smirk. “Did you make a deal?” 

“Nothing serious,” I shrugged. “I used my charms with the addition of my good looks and talked him into agreeing by explaining the whole situation. Tarquin’s smart enough not to decline my offer. How was the situation here? I didn’t notice anything amiss when I flew around earlier.” In fact, it seemed to be a peaceful day for Velaris.

Amren wore a smug smile. “Thanks to Feyre, we were prepared. His troops didn’t even come close to the city.”

“I could’ve helped, but  _ someone _ was holding me back,” Cassian interjected. 

Nesta glared at him before talking to the group. “The healers said he could start walking on his own tomorrow and that he should be able to start his usual activities as long as he doesn’t over do it.”

“Don’t worry, Nesta, I’ll still let you feed me.” Cass winked at her and earned a fist to his arm. We all laughed.

“I’ll take that as a ‘maybe’,” he said, groaning in pain.

“If you don’t shut that sorry mouth of yours, you won’t even be able to be fed.” He stuck his tongue out, and Nesta rolled her eyes.

“Looks like this dog has finally found an owner to put him down,” Amren said. Cassian snarled at her, and Amren returned a snarl of her own.

I felt Elain shrink a bit, so I stepped in. “Alright, back to a more serious note,” I purred. “We have a lot of things to do; there’s still the matter about the Book, we need to find out where the other courts stand in this war, check in with our troops, stall Hybern, and we also need to handle the situation about their father when he returns from his travels.” I gestured to the Archeron sisters. “But most importantly we should start planning how we’ll get Feyre back.”

“Any news on Feyre?” Elain asked. I quirked an eyebrow at her, wondering if she was also thinking about Lucien.

“No actually,” I said, leaning back to think. “She hasn’t sent me a message all day.” 

“Aww, is Rhys experiencing his first time being ignored? Be a man, and make the first move by sending Feyre a message  _ first _ ,” Cassian advised.

“You’re the one to talk,” Amren remarked. “Didn’t Nesta come to you first?” Cassian draped his arm over one side of the bed and relaxed, smirking. Through the corner of my eye, I spotted Nesta, fidgeting, knowing better not to snap back at Amren.

“Well, I can’t deny my good looks.” He winked at Nesta. “It’s in the Archeron genes. She just couldn’t keep her hands off of me.”

Not for the first time, I was sure, Cassian had riled up Nesta. The eldest Archeron sister grabbed the collar of Cassian’s shirt, lifting him half out of his bed by some extraordinary strength.

“Can’t keep my hands off of you, huh?” She asked, her voice slightly ferocious, and slightly seductive. “Well, watch this.”

Black flames emanated from the hand that was holding Cassian and burnt across him and the floating bed. My eyes widened, and Azriel was about to jump up to help when the flames suddenly cleared away, as fast as they’d come, and left Cassian.

As naked as the day he was born.

Nesta sneered, not even fazed by the sight of his manhood. Mor and Amren laughed aloud, wine shooting out of their noses and mouths. Azriel choked on his drink. And poor Elain just sat there, casting furtive glances around, seeming incredibly scandalized. I tried holding in laughter of my own, but failed. 

The entire townhouse was filled with hooting laughter. And poor Cassian—who had nothing to cover himself with seeing that the bed sheets were also burned up—blushed red as a rose before trying to regain dignity by reminding all of us of his extremely good looks and skills in bed. 

“By the Cauldron,” Amren said, with tears shining in her eyes from laughter. “That was the best entertainment I’ve had in centuries.”


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven — Feyre

 

“Get away from her,” the woman in the back snarled. Quick as a viper, she shoved Enfys behind her, and bared her teeth at me. Her wings flared open in a defensive response. 

Faintly, in the background, I heard Lucien crying out in warning, and Tamlin snarling.

I raised my hands, trying to placate the woman—Ariella, Rhys’ mother. “I mean no harm,” I said quickly.

“Funny,” Ariella scoffed. “That's what the King of Hybern said.” I stayed silent and cast a glance toward Lucien and Tamlin, both of whom’s eyes were wide with apprehension. I was unsure of what to do next. Plead the truth to this woman? Yet the repercussions would be disastrous, what with Jurian upstairs, and likely listening in, and Tamlin just a cell away.

I didn't know what plans the king had for Rhys’ family, but I would never forgive myself if I didn't try to save the family of my mate from Hybern.

“You’re the mother of the High Lord of the Night Court,” I said carefully. Her eyes narrowed.

“His mate,” she corrected. I shook my head slowly.

“Rhysand is the High Lord.”

Her eyes widened. “Who killed him.” Who had killed her mate. Not a question. A demand. And not a hint of sentimentality in her voice, with the commanding aura of the consort of the late High Lord of the Night Court.

“I'm… not sure.” A beat. And then.

“You lie,” she hissed. “Surely you must know. You have his scent all over you.” Ariella gave me a pointed look, laced with secrets. Had she smelt Rhysand upon me? Was it possible to identify a High Lord or High Lady by scent alone? I wasn't sure.

Instead, I turned toward the cell that held Tamlin. He sat in his cell, slightly quivering as he stared at Ariella. The previous High Lord of Night had been slaughtered by him. Likely he never expected to face retribution by the woman his father and brothers had killed. He was  _ afraid _ , I realized.

“Feyre,” Tamlin’s voice trembled. “You need to go back.” 

Go back?

He was in a terrible state, so I took the chance to enter his mind.

I looked into his eyes and shot my power at him and was welcomed by a wall of spring. The scent of flowers and mildew sprang into my nose. I could hear the faint buzz of bumblebees and the gentle flap of spring birds. His wall was rather weak, but that made sense in the situation he was in.

I used the same technique I’d use with Tarquin, and I made myself become spring. I became the essence of  _ him _ —his shield. That quickly, I was in Tamlin’s eyes, and I had paved a way back for me to exit. His thoughts hit me like the few raindrops that fall before it gets heavier.

_ Go back to the Night Court.  _

What? I willed myself, in a different body, to keep a serious face and not look surprised.

_ Everything is my fault. I was blinded by my selfish reasons. Feyre, you need to escape. Get away from Ianthe. Get away from the King. Even if it’s the Night Court. . . even if it’s with that bastard. . . _

I pulled myself back from his mind and rejoined my own. His thoughts. . . I was suddenly reminded of the old Tamlin. I blinked. Later. I’d deal with it later.

I turned back to the last cell that held my mate’s mother and sister. I’d repay for the King’s. . . kindness with my own later.

Enfys peered at me from behind her mother’s shoulder. “How did you know my name?” 

I didn’t reply quickly as I was fumbling for the right words to say without revealing too much information. “Rhysand mentioned it to me once.”

“That's my brother,” she said. I nodded.

“I know.” Ariella snarled at me again and shoved Enfys farther behind her.

“Don't talk to her,” she growled.  _ What to say? What to say to this woman that protected so fiercely, so much like Rhys? _

I looked Ariella in the eyes. “My name is Feyre Archeron. And I'm here to save you.”

❋❋❋

“Your lovebird session go alright?” Jurian asked when I came out of the 

dungeons. He smirked and then winked, seemingly suggesting that he knew exactly what I had promised to Rhys’ family.

“More successful than yours,” I said smoothly.

“Well I can’t have that sort of session if you don’t help me out.” Jurian smirked again. “I’d say blocking winnowing from within the manor was one of the best ideas my lord has had in awhile.”

I nearly tripped over my own feet in shock.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Jurian asked innocently. “Well, I’d suppose not since you’re so adverse to practicing those abilities of yours.” He tutted under his breath. I blinked, trying to clear the haze that wasn’t there. The King of Hybern had  _ blocked winnowing? _

“Thank goodness,” I commented lightly, trying to recover from my initial shock. My voice came out slightly breathless. “I’d hate for Rhysand to be able to winnow straight into here.”

“Indeed.” Jurian gave me a sideways smile, as if all my lies amused him. “In any case, I wouldn’t try winnowing to that High Lord of yours either. Hybern had some of that… sensor magic spells… set up. He’ll be alerted the moment anyone in the manor tries to winnow, or if anyone try winnows in. So I wouldn’t go at the dead of the night to fuck your precious High Lord.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I said, casually brushing my left hand at him, “I’m sure Tamlin can survive without the love-making for a few days.” Jurian winked at me.

“If you say so.” And I wondered if by  _ High Lord _ he’d been talking about Rhysand instead.

Jurian walked slightly ahead as we continued walking down the path we’d taken earlier. I took a gamble and began a new topic.

“What kind of person was Miryam?” 

The question took Jurian by surprise from what I could tell by his face. But I couldn’t hold in my curiousity about Miryam. 

“How much of the story do you know?”

From what I remembered, Miryam had been a gift from the evil queen of the Black Land to Drakon who’d let her escape. She’d been found by Jurian and his troops and there, they’d grown close together. However, the war had driven Jurian mad and he’d become too distracted. Drakon had been looking for Miryam, and when he did, they fell in love.

Similar. Very similar to Rhys and my story. A strange coincidence.

“Just the basics—she was a half-fae who was a healer among your army and became your lover for a while before you had become war hungry. And in the end, Drakon stole her heart.” I wasn’t going to reveal everything that I knew that easily.

Jurian side-eyed me and scoffed. “I guess that’s one way to put it.” He slowed his pace and thought carefully. “Hmm. She was very beautiful. Too beautiful, actually. She had most of the men in my troop seeking her out even for the smallest of injuries.” He quietly laughed, silently remembering the old memories. “Despite her background and where she came from, she was very strong—mentally. And physically, actually. Miryam was very hard-working and insisted on helping out with whatever. In fact, she wanted to help fight at one point, but I wouldn’t let her.”

Interesting. “Was she good at fighting?”

“Not really. But with training, she could’ve been good.”

“And… “ I peered at Jurian. “Why are you telling me this?” Jurian shrugged and sighed.

“Perhaps… it is lonely, after five hundred years of being a fragment of myself. My troops, my friends. They are long gone. The only thing I have left… the only person I have left… it’s Miryam. It is all for Miryam..”

And I did not object as we finally reached the landing—out of the dungeon—and he took the path opposite to mine.

❋❋❋

That night, I roused Alis from her sleep and urged her to travel quickly toward the Autumn Court border. I implored her to not ask questions, before making my way down toward the dungeons once more. It had been a last minute decision to get Alis the hell away from Tamlin and the Spring Court. She could be a useful spy, but I wasn’t about to risk her.

I crept down the deserted hallways—faint lights were still on, but all the servants had gone to sleep—and carefully checked intersections for any night wanderers. Who knew if the King of Hybern and Jurian ever slept? Chances were they concocted some never sleeping potion and it’ll be just my luck to run into them in the dead of the night like this.

Illyrian leathers, hair pulled back, multiple daggers and knives sheathed at my belt. I could always call up a glamour, but I wasn’t well-trained in that part of my powers yet—there might be such a thing as a  _ badly _ cast glamour. And no doubt they’d know I was up to something if they found me creeping about at this time of the night.

I was still a few feet away from my destination when I heard my name called out, a faint, rough whisper that only fae ears could possibly hear.

“Feyre,” Tamlin cleared his throat and spoke quietly. “Why are you back here?” In the back of the cell, Lucien grunted, struggling to get up from the pile of straw he lay on.

“Don't say another word and listen,” I said, glancing at the adjacent cell. Two shapes lay in the shadows—Enfys and Ariella, probably, and hopefully, asleep. “I’m taking all of you to the Night Court. I’m going to get all of you out, and,” I steeled my voice, channeling that inner High Lady tone, “you’re going to be silent, you’re going to be cooperative, and you are going to follow  _ any and all directions I give you. Understood? _ ” I leveled a glare at the cell Tamlin and Lucien were in, although I doubted they could see it very well. Fortunately, my voice conveyed all the unspoken threats in the case they did not comply. The two males nodded their heads once in agreement. “Be patient,” I hissed to them as I turned to the cell holding the remnants of Rhys’ family.

No lock on the cell bars. No key hole either. These cells were meant to be magically opened and sealed. Lightly, I placed my left hand upon the center of the cell, where I believed the door would appear. A current of magic swept through me, almost if it were trying to force me back, preventing me from opening the cell.

_ I am Tamlin. The High Lord of Spring. Harbringer of Spring. You answer to me, and to no one else. _

My left hand began moving, nearly of its own will, lightly skimming an outline—the outline of a door.

_ I am the High Lord of Spring, and you will open for me. _

The cell door materialized. Without wasting a moment, I threw it open, rushing inside. Gently, I shook Ariella and Enfys awake. I’d prepared myself for this—as Ariella awoke, I shoved myself back several steps. Just as I’d predicted, her arm came flying out to hit whoever had woken her up.

“Calm down,” I whispered. “It’s me, Feyre.” Glowing violet eyes appeared out of the darkness.

“Feyre?” Enfys asked. Ariella, thankfully, didn’t snarl at me.

“I’m here to get you out. Stay quiet, okay? I’m going to open up that cell,” I jerked my chin at the general direction of where Tamlin and Lucien were,” and then we’ll winnow away.”

The mother-daughter pair stayed silent, and I took the opportunity to quickly slip out of their cell and to the cell that held Tamlin and Lucien.

A part of me—a wicked, cruel part of me—wanted to leave Tamlin in there, to watch him suffer as he had once made me suffer. But that simple action would make me a worse person than Tamlin himself. Tamlin had been an ignorant person. Perhaps once upon a time, the old Feyre was too, but not anymore. This Feyre, the High Lady of the Night Court, the new Feyre… she would forgive, but she would never forget.

Another few seconds of intense concentration with my palm on the cell had the door materializing. I waved Tamlin and Lucien out. Ariella and Enfys were already out of their cell, waiting behind me.

“Fey-” Tamlin began.

“Save it,” I hissed. “Stay silent, and follow me.” Silently, we made our way through the dungeon and up, into the manor. The dim lights still lit up the hallways, and all the servants were still asleep. No one else was up and about. No mishaps yet. But I didn’t feel like our luck would last.

We made it all the way to the front hall of the manor before we were caught.

“Going somewhere, Feyre darling?” Jurian purred from where he blocked the front door. “I thought I warned you not to go fuck your High Lord tonight.” He had both hands in his pocket, standing so calmly.

“Go!” I yelled, shoving Jurian aside with a blast of my wind magic and blasting the front door open. The others gawked at me, even Ariella, who had made clear her suspicions of me.

“Feyre!” Lucien protested. “Let us help!”

“Get out,” I snarled as I sent another current of wind—this time, more gentle—to push them towards the front door. “Go. Get to the border with the Autumn Court. Or else I swear on the Cauldron I’ll blast you out there like I did with the door. I’ll handle this.” Enfys, clutching her mother’s hand, gave me a worried glance before Ariella pulled her away to run. Lucien and Tamlin followed.

“Oh really?” Jurian smirked as he pulled himself up. Fast, so fast that my fae eyes nearly couldn’t follow, he pulled out two knives and threw one at Enfys and the other at Ariella. Rhys’ little sister screamed. But the knives didn’t make contact. They both stopped and quivered three feet away as they all ran past.

Stopped by my shield.

“My, my, Feyre. Your shields aren’t all that strong, are they?” Jurian asked, shaking his head in amusement. My arms were shaking from magical exertion, but he was right. His knives had pierced through the shield of hard air and sank down to the hilt. And when they had pierced through my shield… it felt as if they had pierced into  _ me _ . I was not wounded and I was not bleeding, but my chest felt on fire—like I was dying. But still, I held the shield as the magic drained more of my strength. 

No one’s going to get hurt that easily. Not on my watch.

As soon as Lucien—the last person in the group—ran through the passageway that had once been the front door, I let the shield collapse. The imbedded knives fell to the ground. The magical tension lessened.

“But Feyre, I really do want to know.” Jurian stepped closer, unsheathing a sword. “Do you really think you could defeat me?” I gasped in pain as I struggled to reply.

“I don’t need to defeat you,” I managed. “I just need to delay you.”

“Silly girl,” Jurian sneered. “The only thing you’re delaying is the death of your friends. You’re certainly a fool if you still believe that the King of Hybern is still in bed, snoring away.” I froze. In my haste, I had forgotten Hybern. He couldn’t possibly be… I glanced at the front entrance.

“Yes,” Jurian answered for me, laughing maniacally. “Yes. You’ve only sent them to a worse death. And now, I shall end you.”

I watched as he raised the sword, preparing to decapitate me, or stab me, I’ll never know. Because in that moment, a flash of panic shot through my mating bond. 

Rhysand.

My mate.

He had lost everything and everyone.

And I had promised him he would never lose me. I did not break promises.

The world exploded in fire and ash and I was the ruler of it all. The sound of Jurian’s screams exhilarated me, and provided fuel for the fire I sent swirling throughout the front hall of the manor.

The fire did not burn away the pain in my chest, but it burnt away my weariness, instead forging something red-hot and ancient and furious within. I stalked out the frame of the front door. Outside, in the trimmed gardens, Tamlin—who had shape-shifted into that mighty beast—was, quite literally, trying to claw off Hybern’s face. Lucien defended Ariella and Enfys, using small bursts of magic to defend against the magic that Hybern sent.

I snarled in anger, sending a blast of fire to Hybern’s chest. It pushed him back, but it didn’t wound him.

“Feyre Cursebreaker,” Hybern said as he stretched his neck. “How wonderful for you to finally grace us with your presence.”

“How wonderful I can finally shit on your existence,” I replied. I flicked a finger, sending another fireball flying his way. The king merely deflected it with his forearm. Beads of sweat dropped from my forehead. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could continue.

“Such petty magic won’t work against me,” he said, smiling. “Are you tiring yet? I hear Jurian screaming. Such a good mortal boy.” I ignored him.

“Get going,” I snapped at Tamlin and Lucien. “Get Ariella and Enfys to the border with the Autumn Court.”

“Oh dear, I don’t think that would be acceptable.” The king sent that same blinding white magic, blasting it through the clearing, and I wasn’t fast enough to send up a shield. The magic ripped through me, once again stealing my strength.

I wasn’t here to die. Tiny tendrils of shadows escaped me, dark and vile, making their way to Hybern. They melded together until there were only two strands of darkness, and they swirled through the air until they made contact with the king’s wrists, wrapping around them until the blinding magic and pain stopped, and I could once again see. The others groaned from where they lay on the ground.

The King of Hybern backed up a few steps in surprise as he attempted to rip the shadowy bonds on his wrists. “What is this?” He snarled.

“Night Court magic,” I said, slightly breathless as I gave the clearing another cursory check. Tamlin and Lucien were recovering and were making their way to Enfys and Ariella.

“You,” he said, understanding dawning on his face.

“Me,” I confirmed as my Illyrian wings materialized and flared open, and the glamour on my tattoo lifted. Shadows encircled my hands and wreathed the top of my head, almost like a crown.

“The High Lady of the Night Court,” the King of Hybern noted, nodding his head with approval. Nearby, I heard Ariella and Enfys gasp in surprise at the proclamation. “I should’ve known I didn’t actually break your precious bond back at Hybern. How clever, you and your mate, but it’s over now. Impressive show you’ve put on, but it’ll be even more impressive when I smash you into so many pieces, that even your beloved mate won’t recognize you.”

“Are you so arrogant to think so?” I asked, slightly calmer now that I realize Hybern couldn’t seem to unfasten the shadowy cuffs that were on his wrists. “How do you expect to smash me, if you can’t even summon any magic?” I eyed his bound wrists, smiling.

“You think me a fool,” he replied, still nonchalant, and then he ran. He slammed into Tamlin and Lucien, knocking them over once again, and then slammed into Ariella and Enfys. Ariella successfully shoved him away, but the king instead grappled onto Enfys, who tried and failed to bite him.

“Useless,” he spat. “I knew I should have never resurrected you.” Enfys cried out as the King tightened his grip on her.

“No,” I said instead. “You should have never underestimated me.” I sent shadows flying at him, whipping through the air like lightning rods. The king dodged with surprising agility, carrying Enfys with him.

“Oh, dear Feyre, do you really want to know what would happen if one of those shadow rods of yours stabs sweet Enfys?” I stiffened. The new shadow rod that had been materializing in my hand dissipated back into darkness. “That’s what I thought,” he purred.

But we had both underestimated the woman that had raised Rhys. Lucien jumped forward, attempting to grab on to her to winnow her first, but Ariella had other plans. She leapt out of his reach, agile as a leopard, and made way for Hybern. She raised a fist to hit and—

The King of Hybern howled in pain, releasing Enfys and instead cradling his groin. Ariella followed up the knee she had aimed toward his balls with a fist to his face. Ariella picked up Enfys and spread her wings to fly and—

She shrieked. And I could do nothing as I watched Ariella toss Enfys to Lucien, who immediately grabbed the girl and winnowed, leaving not a trace behind. And Ariella. Poor Ariella. The King of Hybern snatched her reborn wings and pulled at them until she had no choice but to either risk him ripping them out, or to land.

“Now, now, Feyre, I can’t let you take them all can I?” Hybern smiled. “Tamlin. Be a dear and send Feyre on her way, will you?”

I turned slowly to Tamlin, who began to walk towards me. He was still in his beast form, and so it was rather difficult to read his face, but his expression seemed rather resigned.

“Tamlin,” I said, unsure whether to hurl shadows at him or to just stand here, waiting for his next move. “Tamlin. What are you doing?” He stayed silent. 

“Tamlin, if you don’t respond,” I threatened with unspoken words.

“Oh you don’t want to do that,” the king called out. I looked toward him. He had Ariella in a choke-hold. “I wonder how you would tell Rhysand that his mother died a second time.”

“Bastard,” I spat at both the king and Tamlin. Tamlin. For betraying Prythian not once now, but twice. “I should never have forgiven you,” I said to Tamlin, “and you should know I absolutely despise you.”. His eyes shone with what looked to be regret, but I didn’t care, not anymore.

“You committed yourself to that scoundrel,” Tamlin growled. “You  _ fucked _ him. Of your own will.” I laughed mirthlessly.

“Like you didn’t fuck Ianthe of your own will?” I sneered. “Oh I’m sorry, she seduced you, didn’t she? I always thought High Lords had a little more willpower than that.”

Tamlin didn’t deny my claims, deciding to growl back instead. 

From afar, the king cackled, “What a lover’s spat. Make it quick, Tam, I haven’t got all night. The reinforcements are coming.” We both ignored him.

“I thought you were a  _ noble _ High Lord,” I said bitterly. “How wrong I was. And how glad I am to have finally realized.”

“I  _ saved _ you,” he shot back.

“And that’s the problem isn’t it?” I spread my arms, facing him despite the fact he towered over me in his beast form. “I. DIDN’T. ASK. TO BE SAVED.”

“I have tried to be good to you, Feyre,” he growled. “ _ You _ don’t accept my flaws.” I laughed again, the sound coming out raw and cold, like an ice storm in winter.

“You call slaughtering innocents  _ flaws _ ?” I pointed at Ariella, still in Hybern’s grip. “You slaughtered her and her daughter, cut off their wings, beheaded them, and then hung up their wings like some kind of trophy. You call those  _ flaws _ ?” My voice was guttural, and I had never been like this, but this felt liberating and so, so right. To be ripping apart the male I had once loved.

“I would never,” Tamlin swore. “Whatever lies Rhysand fed you, whatever wickedness—”

“Oh that’s right,” I jeered. “You didn’t kill them. Your  _ relatives _ did. And what difference does it make, Tam? Tell me, what difference does it make that you stood on the sidelines and watched as they bled the life out of two innocent Fae?” He cocked his head to the side.

“You’ve turned into quite the hypocrite, haven’t you? Did you not do the same thing?” Tamlin’s lips curled, revealing his elongated canines. “You stole the lives of those two innocent Fae under the Mountain. And yet you condemn me for the same crime..”

My heart ached at the memory. Rage was storming in my body. “That was for you, you  _ bastard _ . I did it all for you, and yet you  _ failed _ to acknowledge the grief and darkness that engulfed me afterwards.” I shook my head, losing myself in my memories. “And yet that, in the scheme of things, was for the greater good. Tell me Tamlin, did you achieve anything through the deaths of Rhys’ family?” Tamlin scoffed, and it shook me to the core how unrecognizable and yet familiar he looked.

“Are you the pet of the High Lord of the Night Court now? Did he tell you he and his father slaughtered my entire family, which included my  _ innocent  _ mother? Rhysand isn’t the only orphan in Prythian,” Tamlin sniped.

“That’s the sad thing I suppose,” I said, laughing quietly. “You see what you believe, Tamlin. And so you would never understand. I am  _ no one’s pet _ . And I will  _ never _ be one again. I am Feyre Archeron. Cursebreaker. Spellbreaker. Defender of the Rainbow. And you will regret you ever stood against me.” 

I looked around the clearing, committing everything to memory. My work here at the Spring Court was done. I took another step back into the darkness and winnowed into the dimension of dust and shadows, sending a telepathic message to the woman held captive by Hybern.

_ I will be back. I don’t break promises. _


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve — Rhysand

 

After Cassian had made a fool of himself, who quickly floated away to his room from embarrassment, we called it a night and went to bed. However, I couldn’t sleep that easily and ended up lounging on the balcony with a glass of red wine. Maybe it was from laughing too much at Cassian that my stomach hurt, or maybe there was something else going on. I felt uneasy, more so than usual, and I couldn’t help but worry about my mate’s well-being.

My mate, who I’ve lost twice already, to the same good-for-nothing bastard.

I sighed, staring out at the night view of Velaris, squinting at the horizon of the mountains as if I could see past it, all the way to Spring Court. It’s been how many weeks, and she was still there, continuously sacrificing herself for the safety of Prythian, for the safety of the _world_.

And here I was, drinking a glass of wine, warm and cozy. I took another sip when I felt a tinge of pain deep within me.

_Feyre._

I had the urge to winnow to the Spring Court at that second, but I knew I couldn’t. It pissed me off that I couldn’t do anything about my mate who was breathing the same air as the King of Hybern. Was she found out? Did she get caught? Was she hurt?

I leaned against the rail and gulped the rest of my wine. I couldn’t even talk to her mentally.

The pain from the bond wasn’t disappearing, and it didn’t seem like it would any time soon, so I continued to stay up. How could I sleep in this situation?

Every minute that passes ticked slowly. It wasn’t until much later that I sensed a presence outside the borders of the Night Court.

❋❋❋

I materialized in the shadows of the trees as I saw three figures struggling to walk and caught the glint of red hair.

“What’s Autumn doing he—” I stopped, staring past Lucien and looking into a pair of familiar violet eyes.

“Big brother?” A high pitch voice called out. My eyes bugged out from the voice that I would never forget in a million years. “Big Brother… Is that really you?”

“En…. Enfys?” I croaked out. There she was, my little sister who I faintly remembered.

“Big Brother!” The same voice called out, now in happiness instead of uncertainty. “It _is_ you!” She continued in a softer voice, probably to her companions. “See, I told you he’d be here. Rhys is _really_ bad at hide-and-seek.” I snorted as I came out from behind the trees and walked toward the three figures—I was only bad at it because I’d _let_ her win. But overshadowing my humor was my confusion. Enfys is _dead_ . Or _was_ , I corrected, as I came closer and saw those identical violet eyes peeking at me through the dark, and the wings, the materialization of which she couldn’t yet control.

Enfys’ companions—Lucien, and a stout female I didn’t recognize—seemed weary, and yet Enfys, my beloved little sister, alive and whole, skipped up to me, her wings folding and unfolding.

“Big Brother,” she began, her eyes shining slightly, “Is it true Daddy’s dead? Mommy seems to think so.” I blinked, still not caught up the current events. Mother was alive as well? I eyed my younger sister, full of uncertainty. The Cauldron wouldn’t bless me with such good fortune. “Big Brother?” She prompted, and if Lucien and the stranger hadn’t been there, I would have broken down in tears.

I sank down to my knees and clasped her tiny hands—hands that I have not clasped in over three centuries—and smiled sadly at my little sister.

“Hello, Small Bat.”

❋❋❋

“The Feyre-lady and Mommy are fighting the king,” Enfys said.

I nearly spewed out my drink. Amren looked ready to break my face.

I’d immediately winnowed Enfys, Lucien, and the stranger—whose name was Alis, and was a servant at the Spring Court and a good friend of Feyre’s—to my Velaris home shortly after introductions and recovering from the shock that Enfys was alive. A quick call and a few minutes wait had resulted in my Inner Circle arriving at my townhouse once again from their various residences throughout the city. Elain and Nesta had awoken as well, and the latter wasn’t even in a bad mood over the late night call as she gazed at Enfys.

Already, my court was familiarizing themselves with the presence of Enfys. Azriel had her sitting in his lap, where he was braiding her hair. Cassian held onto her hand, marveling at the existence of it as I had just minutes before. Mor—my devil of a cousin—hadn’t even blinked an eye at the sight of my younger sister when she winnowed in and had instead made haste for the kitchen, where she had quickly prepared her favorite drink—peppermint hot chocolate, with a single marshmallow, the ones that I always stocked up on whenever I visited the storefront over the Sidra that sold delicacies.

“Big Brother,” Enfys said, once the commotion over her previous comment had died down, “Are you the High Lord?” She kicked her feet in the air and looked at me innocently, as if she wasn’t insinuating that she knew our father was dead. The rest of my court quieted as they watched me.

“I am,” I answered her softly, wondering where this was going. Enfys sucked on a peppermint candy, looking at me thoughtfully.

“So the Feyre-lady is your mate,” she concluded, drawing upon whatever bits of information she’d gotten from Feyre. Cassian laughed, ruffling the girl’s hair as Azriel leveled an annoyed glare at him as he watched the braids he’d been working on loosen and unravel.

“Still a smartass,” Cassian said fondly.

“Cassian…” I warned. He winked at me, and I sighed. If the combined efforts of Mor, Azriel, and myself had been unable to shut Cassian’s vulgar mouth in front of Enfys three centuries ago, I doubted we’d be able to now.

“How’d this happen?” Mor asked to Lucien. She waved a hand that resulted in Alis, Enfys, and Lucien in fresh clothes and cleanliness. Mor wrinkled her nose. “Sorry, I couldn’t handle the stench anymore.”

“When will I be able to do that?” Enfys exclaimed who began waving her hands in the air. Azriel sighed as the braids he had just fixed after Cassian messed them up loosened once again.

I smiled gently. It was too good to be true, but here she was.

“The King of Hybern was planning on using them against you,” Lucien began, glancing at me. “I didn’t know they were alive again either until I was put into the dungeon.”

“The damn king sure loves resurrecting people, huh?” Cassian muttered.

“Start from the beginning.” Amren interrupted. “Why were you in the dungeon?”

Lucien explained the situation about Ianthe suddenly showing up and the King turning on Tamlin resulting their place in the dungeon, how Feyre visited them and ended up finding my mother and sister. He continued on about Feyre’s plan to escape, getting caught by Jurian and the King, my mother sacrificing herself for Enfys, Tamlin’s foolish loyalty to the King of Hybern, and finally heading to the Autumn Court before winnowing here.

“So where’s Feyre?” Nesta and I asked simultaneously. She cut a glance at me, but went back to glaring at Lucien.

Lucien looked away sheepishly. “I don’t know… She was arguing with Tamlin when I took the chance to escape. The King was tied down by shadow cuffs she created, and I know she’s capable of taking down Tamlin on her own, so I’m sure she escaped.”

Shadow cuffs? She must’ve conjured her inner Night Court magic. Interesting.

I looked at Azriel who nodded because he already knew what I was going to say. “I’ll let you know if my contacts report anything.”

“Thank you, Az.” I had to remind myself that Feyre was strong, that she could handle herself. But not knowing where she was, not knowing if she was in danger or not—I wasn’t sure how I was going to handle that.

“Are we just going to sit around like this? What’s the plan?” Nesta asked, surprising us with her sudden forwardness.

“Well, _first_ ,” Amren emphasized as she leaned forward, adding in another glare at me, “We’re going to make sure Feyre and Rhysand’s mother is alright.” No argument there. I bobbed my head along to Amren’s demand. Nesta also seemed appeased by this plan and gave Amren a grudging nod.

“And next,” I cut in, “Cassian, you will be heading to the Illyrian camps with Nesta and Elain. Check up on the legions. Train Nesta and Elain.” Nesta nodded darkly at this, although judging  by the glances she kept darting at Lucien, she was pleased by this news. Cassian grumbled, although I knew he was already have foreboding thoughts about how he’ll be welcomed as a _wingless_ Illyrian bastard. “Mor, you will have to take care of the Court of Nightmares.”

“Of course,” she chirped, and the light tone would’ve made anyone else believe that she was perfectly alright going and dealing with her father and his wicked subjects.

“Azriel,” I said to the shadowsinger. He nodded, understanding perfectly what I needed him to do.

“And Amren,” I addressed. “You are to complete business with Sukra and the book. We’ll let Sukra out tomorrow, and you’ll deal with him from that point on.”

“But you can’t free anyone from the Prison,” Cassian remarked.

“No, I can’t,” I sighed. “But the Book of Breathings can.”

The atmosphere in the room became heavy and grave.

“What in the Cauldron are you planning?” Lucien spurted out.

Alis gave him a nudge on his side with her elbow. “I apologize for this fool who doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”

“I was actually wondering that too,” Elain said timidly. For a moment, I had thought Elain was wondering why Lucien was a fool. A glance at Lucien told me he had thought the same thing at first, and had a stricken expression on his face before understanding. “Can you explain what the Book of Breathings is?”

I had started to talk before Mor interrupted and explained the basics instead. I gave my cousin a raised eyebrow after she finished. “Sorry, you take too long talking about these type of things.”

I frowned at her. She wiggled her fingers at me and gave me a wink before turning to Enfys. Centuries of dealing with her told me she wasn’t sorry at all. Not that she was sorry all that often at all. “Sukra is an ancient creature, one of the first who roamed on these lands before going into the Prison. Amren and I decided he is best suited for helping us with the book, but he didn’t want to cooperate unless he was granted freedom. According to him, there is a spell in the Book that can do it.”

“So you want me to translate the Book and find it?” Amren brows rose as I nodded..

“Yes.”  
“Who’s going to command the spell?”

I looked towards Nesta and Elain. “One of you two has to do it.”

“Why does it have to be one of us?” Elain asked.

“Like Mor said earlier, no creature born on earth can perform the spells and summon its power. Like the Book, only those that were Made—or in your case, _reforged_ , can speak the spells. It worked with Feyre, so it should work with you too.”

“I’ll do it,” Nesta said quickly before Elain could even open her mouth.

I glanced at Elain, to see if she would object, but she didn’t. She only sat there, thinking quietly to herself. “Amren, when do you think you’ll have the spell translated?”

Amren bit her lip. “I think I saw the spell when I first looked at the Book so it shouldn't take long. It’ll be done probably by the morning, maybe the afternoon.”

“Take your time. As soon as you have it, Nesta and I will go to the Prison.”

Cassian raised a hand. “Will she still be joining me and Elain at the Illyrian camps?”

“Of course,” Nesta said smoothly. “I wouldn't leave Elain with a brute like you.”

Cassian scoffed, deciding not to retort to the jab. “Be careful out there,” he said, staring right at Nesta.

Nesta flashed her teeth. “I can handle myself.”

“He's not just saying that,” Mor said. “The Prison contains the nastiest, foulest creatures that have been in there for who knows how long.”

Nesta didn't reply, obviously a bit taken back. With her sort of steel mind, she could handle a lot of things, and I wondered how she would deal with the Prison and Sukra.

“What about us?” Lucien asked, gesturing to himself and Alis. “We could be useful too.”

“Oh, no, I’m just a servant, you know,” Alis said, tugging slightly at the hem of her apron. She obviously felt out of place, sitting and drinking tea in a group made primarily up of High Fae. “I can do any housework.”

“Oh, nonsense!” Mor piped before I had a chance to talk. _Again_. Once this was all over, I needed to have a talk with Mor about sharing talking opportunities. “You helped our High Lady, and she would most certainly have our heads for allowing you to do housework. Naturally, we would appreciate it if you could help us with the war effort, but you are free to do whatever you wish.”

“Well,” Alis began, still tugging on her apron in nervousness, “if it isn’t too much to ask… my nephews are currently at the Summer Court… I sent them there fearing Tamlin’s connection with the King of Hybern… if you could check up on them for me…” She trailed off.

“Not a problem,” I said, before Mor could cut in again. “I’ll send a letter to inquire him about them. Would you like them brought here?”

“If you don’t mind, High Lord,” she said. I smiled.

“As for Lucien… we are… in need of alliances. And I hear that you are emissary for the Spring Court.”

“Were,” he corrected, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “I have contacts in all the other courts.” I took a careful sip of my tea, gauging his reaction.

“What would you think about making a trip to the Autumn Court?” Lucien started in surprise at the mention of his home court. “I’m afraid Lord Beron may cause many problems yet. I was wondering if you could possibly convince your mother, Lady Vieva, to help.” His jaw tightened.

“You mentioned last time that she’s trying to convince Beron to fight against Hybern. If that isn’t working, I don’t see how I could convince her to do any more.” I smirked.

“But she is Lady of the Autumn Court. She may be consort to the High Lord, but she still has power. If you could convince her to help in any way that she can…”

“You’re asking me to ask her to risk her life to raise a secret army for you.”

“Not just for me,” I corrected. “For Enfys here, for your mate—” he jolted at that; Elain blushed “—for everyone in Prythian. For all the mortals on the other side of the Wall.”

“My brothers will kill me before I set foot in the Autumn Court.” I smiled widely at that.

“Not if you’re emissary for the Night Court.”

❋❋❋

Nearly dawn. And Feyre still wasn’t back. No responses through our mating bond either. I would be out there searching already if Mor hadn’t talked some sense into me—I had no idea where she was, and if Hybern had her, he’d be taunting me about it already.

Everyone else was sleeping; I had personally tucked Enfys into one of the guest rooms, although her old room in the House of Wind hadn’t been touched in centuries.

I was pretty sure I had worn a hole in my front porch from my pacing before I noticed a snowflake floating down from the sky. The snowflake transformed into a sheet of paper—a letter.

 

_Greetings from the Winter Court._

 

_I am currently holding one (1) Feyre Archeron. If you hope to see your mate again, surrender yourself to the Winter Court border forces in three days time. You will stand on trial for your crimes during Amarantha’s reign. Failing to do so will result in the death of your mate. I believe that would be sufficient pay for the murders you committed and the sorrow you have caused my court._

 

_Regards,_

_Kallias_


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen — Feyre

 

I whirled through darkness for several long seconds before suddenly slipping back into the world of light and slamming into soft, yet firm ground. Pain—and cold—seeped into the left side of my body. I groaned, my hands scrambling in the white mess, trying to find purchase to pull myself up.

I froze. Looked down and actually  _ focused _ on where the hell I was.

White fluffs stuck to my left sleeve. My hands were  _ freezing _ , already turning white from the cold. Where the  _ hell _ …

“And just who do you think you are?” Someone sneered. Adrenaline pumped into me once more; I whipped around, sending those white fluffs— _ snow _ , but the scenery wasn’t anything like the mountainous views near the Illyrian camps—flying outwards from my hair.

A stocky sentinel stood a few feet away. Glaring, pale blue eyes and straight black hair that fell nearly to his shoulders.

“Where am I?” I asked, carefully standing up and brushing off the snow flecks on my leathers. The sentinel raised an eyebrow at me. I waited.

“Wydeira Glyn,” he answered, paused a moment, and then added, “Winter Court.” I guffawed. I’d winnowed to the  _ Winter _ Court? I tried pulling on that thread of magic again, trying to pull myself into that shadow dimension, trying to winnow to home: the Night Court. Nothing. Exhaustion, maybe. Or maybe lack of expertise. I’d traveled from the heart of the Spring Court to the Winter Court in one jump. The most I’d ever done before was short jumps across the span of several trees. I tried to push down the gnawing mass of panic that was already threatening to engulf me. If I could face down the King, I could handle being isolated in a foreign court.

The sentinel scrutinised me. “Who are you?” He asked again. I bit my lip. I couldn’t remember this particular fae Under the Mountain, perhaps he hadn’t been important enough to be called down there, but then, even if I didn’t answer… surely he would recognize me anyway.

I tried reached for his mind with my invisible talons, but it was as if the magic had left me. Gone. A new surge of panic rose up. I couldn’t even contact Rhys.  _ By the Cauldron… _ Rhys… my mate didn’t even know where I was

The silence had gone on too long. The sentinel went from scrutinization to immediate suspicion. A small part of me had been surprised when he hadn’t tackled me on the spot when I’d appeared out of nowhere.

Faster than my panicking mind could process, he grabbed my left forearm—his hand was freezing cold and sent spasms through my arm—and we winnowed out.

We arrived in the middle of a huge chamber. The unexpected travel would have made me fall, had the sentinel not been holding tightly to my arm.

“Gendon,” a soft, yet cold voice called out. The sound echoed about the vacant chamber—a chamber that, unfortunately, wasn’t much warmer than outside in the snow. “What is this?” My face twitched from barely repressed anger and frustration, ripping my arm out of  _ Gendon’s _ hold.

“Don’t touch me,” I snarled at the sentinel. The sentinel didn’t even blink, didn’t even react, as he stared forward for a beat before bowing low.

“Apologies, High Lord, for the intrusion. This girl winnowed into Wydeira Glen and was unwilling to divulge her identity. I thought it best to bring her to you.” I whipped around.

High Lord Kallias of the Winter Court lounged on a throne of ice, a jagged crown of ice gleaming from where it sat upon his head. The backrest was formed by long, sharp icicles—short near the edges, and longer toward the middle. Rings of spikes shot out, forming a dais. A cold throne for a cold ruler.

Kallias studied me quietly for a moment, his inky black hair brushing across his brow. A small smile—emotionless and detached—danced across his lips.

“Feyre Cursebreaker.” The sentinel didn’t seem to react, except for a telltale twitch of his right hand. He hadn’t been Under the Mountain then.

I inclined my head slightly, unwilling to show much more respect than that, considering the lackluster greeting. “Kallias.” No surprise shown at my intentional use of only his name and not his title, as he had done to me.

The High Lord continued staring at me intently as he flicked his hand flippantly at his sentinel. Without a sound, Gendon bowed again and left the room, through an actual door this time. Silence stretched in the cold chamber.

I crossed my arms, trying to refrain from shivering. “Do you often spend time pondering alone on your throne in a huge, empty chamber until one of your sentinels pop in to deliver some random bit of news?” No hint of amusement. What little smile had been there before had long disappeared.

“As a matter of fact,” Kallias drawled, his words chilling, “I do. I rather enjoy pondering alone.” Had it been anyone else that had said those words, it would have been a joke. Yet I had no incentive to smile at his words.

The High Lord raised an eyebrow at me as he agily rose from his throne, slowly stepping down the rings of spikes that made up for stairs. “Do you?”

“Pondering is best left to the damaged and apathetic.” Truth. Before Rhys had healed my heart piece by shattered piece, I had spent days nearly comatose in bed and through all my tasks.

Kallias descended from the last step and took to studying the ice sculptures that decorated the linings of both walls. This time, I did shiver, but not from the cold. The ice sculptures were too realistic for my liking. The details… even for Fae, the skill of the craft was incredible and absolutely incomparable.

He stopped at one that displayed a small fae boy holding his mother’s hand before saying, “That’s rather interesting for you to think so, but I disagree. We ponder to make decisions—the smarter decisions. Without pondering, certain actions will be followed by regret, guilt, and terrible consequences.”

“That’s wise,” I commented stiffly. It didn’t sound very wise at all. It seemed that whenever I did divulge in the act of pondering, it left me with much more guilt and depression than before.

The crown of ice that sat atop his head glistened as he turned to me.

I thought about everything I knew about the Winter Court and contemplated what choices Kallias could possibly regret. If I recalled correctly, the Winter Court was one of the courts to rebel against Amarantha and failed miserably. I wondered if he was referring to that decision. 

“What brings you to my land, Cursebreaker?” There was a light frost in his tone.

I straightened my posture and lifted my chin. My hand drifted towards the daggers sheathed at my belt, and my voice came out as chilly as the frost of the Winter Court. “My apologies, for causing a disturbance, but I didn’t mean to be here. Your sentinel very rudely, and without my permission, winnowed me to you.” I inclined my head slightly. “I’ll be taking my leave now.” I prepared to turn on my heel and walk out the front door that Gendon had just exited through a few minutes earlier.

Kallias chuckled, and the air in the room became colder. I stopped, right heel raised slightly. “Oh, you're not going to leave just yet. You saved me a lot of political diplomacy by showing up at my court of your own will. We have plenty of matters to discuss.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, a terrible feeling rising within me, trying to come up with a simple and easy way to get out of here.

“Here’s something about pondering, Cursebreaker,” Kallias said, pivoting slowly to face me directly. “You make the best decisions.” Something flashed silver and white in his hand as he seemingly twirled it.

The blast of ice raced toward me, twirling like one of those drills I had seen on my father’s desk so many years ago and that he’d likely invest in, only this drill, this  _ ice _ , was much, much more dangerous.

The last thing I remember before blacking out was flying across the length of the chamber, cold seeping into my bones.

❋❋❋

Freezing. That was the first word that came to mind when I opened my eyes. I was freezing and couldn't feel a thing. The weight near my hip was gone. Someone—Kallias—had taken my daggers and knives.

I was splayed out on the ground—no,  _ ice _ . I slowly stood on my feet, trying not to slip and realized that I was in some sort of cell.

There wasn’t much to take in of my surroundings because it entirely ice. Cold bricks of ice that can be easily burned with fire. I filled my mind with things of heat: the sun, boiling water, the fireplace, and a hot bath. I put all my energy and concentration into conjuring a ball of flame and—nothing. I focused again, staring intensely at my hand, waiting for a small fire to magically appear, but there wasn’t even a spark.

Something wasn’t right. I tried conjuring water, but that didn’t work either. No talons, no glowing, no  _ anything _ . Fortunately, I could still feel the bond, although I couldn’t send any messages or feelings. It was as if something was blocking my magic. I was powerless.

I looked out the tiny rectangular slot of the door, but the only view I had was more ice.

No, no _ , no.  _ My chest tightened and I could hear my heart beating faster. I tried taking a deep breath, tried pushing away the past memories, tried thinking of the friends and family I'll be returning to, but the anxiety wouldn't go away.

Just then, a flurry of snow started forming, taking the shape of a person.

“Nice to see you awake,” Kallias said. My bones chilled. I didn’t want to know how he’d known that I’d just awoken. “It seems that you don't like your new room.”

The crown he wore earlier had been replaced with a different one. This one, its color a dim sheen of yellow, glowed like a firefly.

“What did you do to me?” I gritted out. “How come I can’t use my powers?”

A smug smile tugged on his lips. “It seems you don’t know much about my court. My sentinels are a different kind of Fae with amazing skills.” He leaned towards me, as if sharing a secret. “My favorite one is their ability to nullify a Fae’s power within a certain proximity. They have an extraordinary track record as guards.”

I stilled. Was that possible?

“Why are you doing this?” I questioned instead. “I'm not your enemy.”

Kallias smirked. “No, you are not. You are the savior of Prythian, reforged from all seven High Lords.” He strolled around the cell, dragging his right hand along the walls. “But you’re well acquainted with an enemy of mine.”

I blinked. Rhysand?

“Yes, the High Lord of the Night Court.” Kallias answered my unspoken question. “That sadistic killer you call a  _ friend _ . Word travels fast among the courts, my dear.” He held my stare. “And word says that you two are  _ mates _ .”

I wasn't sure how to respond so I said nothing.

“Or I guess I should say  _ were _ . The asshole of Hybern destroyed the bond, correct?” Had it been anyone else, a sneer would have graced the speaker’s face, yet Kallias remained impassive. He stood mere feet away from me, and I had to withhold the burning urge to lunge forward and shred his stone-cold face.  _ Bide your time, Feyre. Apprehend, analyze, attack.  _ I couldn’t tell if the suggested course of action was my thoughts, or Rhys’.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath through my nose, the freezing air burning my nostrils.

“What do you want, Kallias?”

“Simple. I want the High Lord of Night to pay.” A sneer threatened to overtake my now—hopefully—passive expression.

“Pay for  _ what _ ? For whoring for Amarantha?”

“In part, yes.” Kallias gazed at me, his expression unreadable. “I suppose it shouldn’t be a surprise that he hasn’t told you the tragedies he’s brought upon the entirety of the Winter Court.” The High Lord raised a single, immaculate eyebrow at me, as if expecting me to know of what he was talking about.

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh,” Kallias quietly crooned, the change in pitch in his voice contrasting sharply with his stoic face. “I think you do.” He gave me a tight-lipped smile.

Lucien’s voice jumped out at me in my mind, his voice fuzzy and indistinct. It had been when I had still been mortal… I closed my eyes, mentally grappling for that scrap of memory.

_ The blight. _

What had Lucien said? My human memories were foggy, like I had been lost and was looking at the world through a distorted mirror. The recall of his voice rang through my head, as if he were saying it again, but this time from far, far away.

_ It took out two dozen of their younglings… burned through their magic, then broke apart their minds… No one in the Winter Court could do anything… _

I let out a gasp, taking a small and heavy step backwards.  _ The blight the blight the blight. _

My freezing hands reached up to clutch at the sides of my face. My face had suddenly grown unbearably warm, and tears were already coloring my vision.

“Rhysand—he—” I choked out a sob. Kallias inclined his head slightly, misinterpreting my cry for the horror of Rhysand. Yet… while I had been horrified by the deaths of the younglings, I was now overcome with another piece of the damage still inflicting Rhys.

“I’m sure you understand that he must pay for his crimes.” The High Lord of Winter stepped closer, and I unwilling took another step back.

I clenched my right hand into a fist, digging my nails into my palm. I pushed down my tears.  _ Later,  _ I promised myself.  _ Later. _

“You’re going to keep me in this cell,” I said, understanding dawning upon me. It felt like a cruel joke, and already, my subconscious was returning to the confinement of the Spring Court, and before that, Under the Mountain.  _ Save me save me save me _

Last time, I had no magic. Last time, I had Rhysand.

This time, I had no magic. This time, I had no Rhysand. And no one was going to save me.

“I’m sure you understand,” Kallias repeated. “You may have been mates, but even you know Rhysand’s cruelty knows no bounds. He must be put down.”

The freezing air seemed to be constricting my lungs as I struggled for breath. “You’re violating Prythian law. You can’t just kidnap me. I’m—” I cut off, floundering for what to say. High Lady? Would Kallias simply strike me down where I stand, for  _ choosing _ to be affiliated with Rhysand? I tried again, “I’m Feyre Cursebreaker. You can’t just kidnap me and shove me in the closest cell.” Kallias cocked his head to the side. He’d noticed my hesitation, and my apparent omission. He stayed quiet a moment, seemingly considering.

“And you realize that you provoked me first by  _ trespassing _ on my land. I have  _ every right _ to imprison and punish you, according to Prythian law. Don’t even try politics with me, little Cursebreaker.” He smiled, humorless. “I have lived several times over your life thus far.” Kallias turned, likely to winnow out. I gaped at him. He couldn’t just  _ leave me here. _ I grappled for invisible strings to get him to stay.

“You know,” I started, “you’re no different from Amarantha.”

Kallias stopped. He turned back around, his face stern. “Excuse me?”

“Do you not realize what you're doing?” I raised my voice, hoping it wasn’t as quavery to Kallias’ ears as it was to my own. “You throw me in a cell, powerless and helpless. You demand a bargain—”

Cackling laughter from Kallias made me stop talking.

“Shall I give you a riddle too?” Kallias said spitefully. He stalked closer to me. The cell felt colder with each step he took. “I admit you saved Prythian, but you know  _ nothing  _ of the horror that Amarantha once possessed. She went easy on you during the trials because you were a human. She was foolish in that way.”

Kallias was so close now that I could feel his ice cold breath brush against my cheeks. Involuntarily, I shuddered. This was the most emotion Kallias had shown since I winnowed into the Winter Court.

“Acting so mighty and arrogant now that you're  _ something _ ,” he whispered, the sound like a lover’s caress. Yet the words were anything but. Kallias turned away again, this time winnowing away, but not before he called out, “Don’t worry, Cursebreaker. I will not be so foolish.”


	14. Tears and Vapor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the short story of the Nesta/Cassian scene that took place in Chapter Four. Announcements at end!

Nesta

* * *

“I’m sorry.” His hand gripped Nesta’s tightly—like a lifeline. Nesta wasn’t sure what was scarier, him screaming and begging to be killed, or broken like this. “I’m sorry. I failed you, Nesta. I couldn’t defend you. I’m sorry.” Bullshit. Bullshit all of it. She had seen what happened when the king of Hybern had sent that wave of magic. Cassian had sacrificed those wings, the wings he took so much pride in, for his brother, Azriel.

And yes, he hadn’t been able to keep that promise he’d made. But Nesta had seen how he tried to get up and fight, even with those shredded wings. Even when he was bleeding and dying and with each movement he made to get up, to keep his promise, blood spurted from the wounds in his wings.

The fault was not his. And he had tried to keep his promise, to his dying breath and shredded wings. And so she would help him up now.

“I hope you plan on keeping your immortal ass alive,” Nesta said, by way of greeting. There were tears and blood stains on the pillow case, and there were tears and blood stains on his face. Gently, she wiped those tears and blood drops away. Half of his face was buried in the sheets and blankets.

“Cassian.” She slid her right index finger, now long and pale, courtesy of having been Made, under his chin and tried to make him look up. Her finger poked and prodded his chin, but his head didn’t budge. Fae bastards. What were their heads made of? “Cassian. Look. At. Me.”

His face shifted slightly, and a single hazel eye pierced the gray-blue eyes of Nesta’s. He took in a sharp breath. She wouldn’t have heard it if she was still human, but Nesta was Fae now, her hearing impossibly acute. She tilted her head to the side.

“What?”

“You’ll hate me,” he said quickly. Perhaps this was the most worrying part of all. Cassian’s show of arrogance and confidence had quickly deteriorated since the destruction and amputation of his wings.

“For not being able to protect me? Please,” Nesa snorted slightly before clasping her other hand onto his single one. By the Cauldron, they were huge. “Plus, in case you haven’t noticed, I already hate you. What is it?”

“It’s just… it’s just that…” He hesitated. Then forged forward, “You’re beautiful.”

“Every High Fae is beautiful,” she replied plainly.

“Perhaps. But you were beautiful before you were High Fae.” Nesta furrowed her brows. Compliments from Cassian that weren't backhanded or flirtatious in some way was… incredibly out of character for him.

“Thank you,” she said distractedly. A lull in conversation as Nesta searched quickly for a way to change the topic of conversation. “Are you still going to kill yourself?”

Cassian’s single visible eye turned sad and mopey nearly immediately, if it was possible to tell emotion just by looking at a single eye. “What else am I supposed to do without wings?”

“You can lead an army without wings. You can fight without wings. You can win a war without wings.” And then, before she lost her sudden bout of courage, “You can flirt with someone without wings. Not having wings doesn’t detract your irresistible beauty in any way.” She swallowed hard on the last sentence. A compliment like that was bound to have repercussions when it was for someone like Cassian. And indeed it did. He quieted, before he seemingly remembered how to smile and flirt and flaunt his arrogance. Cassian’s mood was like a switch—constantly flipping between his usual self and a watered-down version with a large splattering of self-pity. Nesta just needed to figure out the trigger.

“Nesta Archeron…” he crooned, the change in personality extremely evident as he shifted from sad to coquettish in less than a second. “Do  _ you _ find me irresistibly beautiful without wings?” She forced her face to still, to not blush, to not give him any indication how true that statement was.

“Everyone else, I’m sure,” she drawled.

“Liar,” Cassian purred. “Such a liar, Nesta Archeron. Tell me you find me irresistibly beautiful, Nesta.” Nesta’s heart pounded loudly, and she was sure the bastard could hear it. What was the advantage in this? Admit that he is irresistibly beautiful? Would that continue to keep his mind off the wings, or would it make him believe he looked even more beautiful  _ with _ wings? She was playing this one millisecond at a time.

“Why would I need to tell you you're beautiful when you already know the answer?” Cassian smirked.

“So I can boost my ego, why else?” His face turned serious and sad again. Nesta grimaced internally. Cassian’s quick shifts from forced happiness to depression was worrying. “I… I don’t know what to do without wings.” Such a sudden, heart-wrenching confession.

“I don’t know what to do as High Fae,” Nesta confessed before she realized what she was doing. She looked at Cassian, and a sudden surge of anger overcame her. “At least you had a choice in losing your wings,” she spat.  _ Unfair, unfair, unfair. _ But when had she ever played fair when it came to the battles of words?

“A  _ choice _ ?” Cassian said slowly, his eyes roaming slowly back to her. Unnatural predatory hate, sadness, and fear glinted in those eyes. “You think I had a  _ choice _ , Nesta Archeron?” His eyes narrowed, and a single strum of fear reverberated through me, but she wouldn’t back down, not now. Nesta held her chin up higher.

“Of course you had a choice. I was forced.  _ Forced. _ As that self-righteous  _ king _ dragged my beloved sister and threw her in the Cauldron. She could have  _ died _ in there. Perhaps she didn’t die, but she was  _ Made _ .” The word “Made” was spat like it was the worst insult she could think of. And perhaps it was. “I would have been more than happy to give up my human life, become Fae, or even give up all the shreds of my soul, in order to protect Elain. But I had no say, no hope, of saving her from that fate. But you,” she breathed. “You  _ chose _ to shield your brother with your wings.  _ Chose _ to sacrifice those appendages for his life.”

Cassian laughed quietly, reminiscent of the maniacal one earlier. “If you knew anything about our relationship, then you’d know there never was a choice. A choice means that I would have entertained the idea of saving myself in exchange for my brothers. There is no choosing in whether I gave up my wings for Azriel, or if he gave up his for mine. We’d do it without thinking. There is no choice. Sacrificing for my family is something ingrained in me, so don’t tell me I had a choice when I didn’t, Nesta. I would always,  _ always _ give up whatever part of myself I had to to save my court. Even if it kills me.” A small kernel of understanding lit within her, although Cassian’s logic about choosing was confusing at best. The last sentence he uttered, however, struck a chord within Nesta.

“Then I’ll strike a bargain with you,” she said, bravado ringing her voice. Cassian raised his eyebrows, interested in hearing the deal.

“You know I hate being Fae. The only reason why I’m still alive is for Elain’s sake. I’ll protect her to my dying breath, whether I be human or Fae or whatever else the Cauldron seeks to make me. And the only reason why you’re still alive is for your court. You say you want to die, but you won’t abandon your court. You can’t abandon your court. Not when your brothers and sisters are just on the brink of another huge war like the one five hundred years ago. So I’ll make you a deal, Cassian. I’ll stay alive. I’ll stay alive and I’ll be happy and make the most out of my immortal life in this Cauldron-damned Fae body… if you do the same without your wings.” Nesta flicked her eyes upward to stare into Cassian’s unflinching hazel ones. “That’s my deal.”

* * *

Cassian

* * *

“That’s my deal.” Cassian met Nesta’s blue-gray eyes unflinchingly. A challenge. And maybe it was the Illyrian blood that coursed through him, or his impossible ego, as Mor always put it, but Cassian had never backed down from a challenge.

“Challenge accepted,” he said, smirking through the pain. “Now tell me Nesta, 

is this whole happy thing an all-the-time thing? Or do I just have to smile when I'm around you?” Cassian quirked up the side of my mouth, knowing that the smile would likely infuriate Nesta.

Her sharp eyes narrowed, and a smile of her own blossomed, albeit sharp and 

predatory-like.

“I'll always be happy when I'm with you,” she purred. Damn the Cauldron. 

Nesta. And the mating bond. By the Mother. The mating bond.

He knew what had happened when Rhys had withheld information about the 

mating bond between him and Feyre. Feyre had deserted for around a week, before Rhys finally found her and explained, and she accepted the bond. But Nesta…

“I… I need to tell you something,” Cassian said, when the silence had gotten 

too loud. Nesta raised a single, perfect eyebrow. Cassian imagined pressing kisses to that perfect eyebrow, and its identical one, and her nose, and her lips, and—Focus, Cassian, goddammit.

“We’re—” He looked away, shoving his face into the pillow. Why would 

Nesta—Nesta  _ Archeron _ — _ ever _ , accept the bond? She obviously made it clear how distasteful she found mating bonds by the way she had snarled Lucien after he'd proclaimed Elain his mate.

“Cassian,” Nesta said quietly. A quiet sound. But also a threat. A warning. So 

before Cassian can lose his voice, before he can lose what little courage he had…

“We’re mates,” he whispered. The atmosphere dropped. He could feel it. Even 

the room felt several degrees colder and darker, nevermind the fact that it was the Night Court.

“What?” Nesta whispered back. It wasn't the response Cassian expected. To 

be honest, he thought Nesta would say something along the lines of “go to hell” or something similar to what he’d heard Nesta say to Lucien through his pain, “she is  _ no such thing _ ”. But she hadn't said either of those two things. And it sort of… it gave him hope.

Cassian summoned his courage again, and said louder, “We’re mates.” Nesta raised 

an eyebrow at him.

“You do understand that just because we’re apparently mates—” she gestured at the two of them with a single finger “—doesn’t mean I’m going to kiss that ruddy face of yours? So there’s no need to repeat it; I heard it the first time.”

“Darlin’, you can kiss me whenever you want,” Cassian offered. By how Nesta’s hand twitched, Cassian was pretty sure she would have struck him if he hadn’t been wounded. Perks of injuries, he supposed, although he would have preferred a much less serious wound.

“Since you’re so certain about this mating bond,” Nesta sniffed, “then fine. But don’t think this changes anything between the two of us. You’re still a bastard.” But strangely, the last comment wasn’t as harsh, as if Nesta hadn’t really meant it.

“Good to know,” Cassian quipped. “So… Nesta… does that mean we’re friends now?”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Nesta replied cynically, shaking her head slightly, and Cassian feared for a moment that those shakes meant she was disagreeing. But then the woman looked up, a flame reminiscent to the fire that had burned within her before she had been turned Fae reignited. This time, that small flame was growing again in a real attempt to fight for herself, for her sisters. And perhaps it was wishful thinking, and Rhys and Azriel would certainly hold it over him for centuries if he ever shared… but maybe, there was just a small part of her, that was willing to fight for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This is a definitive end to this fanfiction considering that ACOWAR has been out for about eight months now along with the fact that my coauthor and I are busy, as well as no longer motivated, yada yada, to finish this fanfiction. So we're ending it on a good note (albeit after months of silence oops) with a short story we finished nearly a year ago.  
> Additionally, I recently released the first chapter of my original novel (it's my second draft. sort of. really it's the culmination of nearly four years and countless uncompleted drafts) on Wattpad. It's called Soul of Ice. My username on there is disapparance. This is the link: https://www.wattpad.com/522273804-soul-of-ice-chapter-one
> 
> Hopefully you'll take a look and give it a read! Happy 2018 to you all ^^ and signing off this story for the last time.


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